


King of Agony

by Iavalir



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abuse, Depression, Durin Family, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 100,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iavalir/pseuds/Iavalir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through an act of love Kíli was given a second chance at life, but it left him a shattered soul. He is left to face his greatest enemy, one he cannot beat unless he can first defeat himself. A tale silent among the dwarves, removed and changed from the Red Book of Westmarch, speaks of the trials and sins, and the love and bonds, which filled the life of the King of Agony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Farewells

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3900.html?thread=7159868#t7159868) at hobbit_kink: Thorin and Fili die in The Battle of Five Armies and Kili is left to rule as king. But the loss of his family has left him depressed; that combined with his young age and inexperience in leading, a Regent is named to rule in his place.
> 
> This Regent isn't someone from the company, instead is someone who is older then Kili (around Thorin's or Dwalin's age) and comes from a noble powerful dwarf family. He's a harsh ruler. He also takes advantage of Kili in his weakened state and abuses him in their relationship. He either already has or wants to force Kili into marrying him to secure his place as King. Kili, who blames himself for his brother's and uncle's deaths, believes he deserves the abuse. 
> 
> ============= 
> 
> The prompt captivated me the moment I read it, and months later I finally have the first chapter. The plot has grown so much since! Please excuse any typos. :)

His first task as king will be to lead the funeral for his own brother. 

He wasn’t prepared. Hardly anyone is ever ready to bid farewell to a passed loved one. But Kíli did not think his brother had died. He had not witnessed Fíli slain, and so his mind refused to believe it. Others, however, did not share Kíli’s view, shattering the thin shield of optimism Kíli had held. He thus sat on this chair as still and cold as a mountain, paralyzed with grief. 

Fingers straightened the golden chain on either side of the beard, and when he was content with it, Balin took a step back to study the work admirably, all the while smiling kindly to Kíli. 

“I think that will be enough,” he told the other dwarves. There were three other dwarves in the room, all who hailed from the Iron Hills, who were working with Balin in preparing Kíli for his coronation. They had been working meticulously in dressing his image up to be fit for a king. Dori had outdone himself in using what little material they had to work with in putting together an attire using the colors of the Durin line. The colors were sharp and the gold he wore was polished. 

Their biggest concern now was his beard. Kíli had to sacrifice his bow and arrows, his main weapon of choice, in order to keep his beard long. It would be a shame to see a Longbeard king without a long beard, Balin had teased him gently. 

“It does not stop you from using your bow,” Balin had explained to him, “but the sword will have to be your main weapon.” Kíli had not minded giving up his favorite weapon; the grief of that was nothing compared to what else he had lost. 

Like all dwarves Kíli did pride in his own beard, but every morning he had to trim it down to a stubble lest an arrow got caught in it. He had learned that the hard way in his youth. But it was tedious keeping his beard a certain length, for he was gifted (though at times it felt like a curse) with rapidly growing hair. Despite this quality, for the past few days they had been rubbing Kíli’s chin and upper lip with an oil to encourage even more hair growth. 

Kíli’s beard had indeed been growing fast, but it was still nothing to the splendor of the dwarven kings past. But in a few days it had already become longer than Thorin’s beard, but they were hoping for it to grow a few more inches. To hide the hair until it had grown to a good length, the dwarven tailors had dressed him up in long waves of jewels and gold. It weighed down his face painfully, but Kíli did not feel any more like a king. The statues around them in the mountain kingdom were more commanding than he could ever pretend. 

From the mirror Kíli watched Balin bid the tailors a good day. The elder dwarf turned back to him, smiling warmly as he admired his young cousin. 

“I did not think it would end this way,” Kíli said as he drew a breath, willing himself to stop the tears. Balin’s hand on his shoulder did nothing to comfort him, only pushing him closer to the edge. 

“You are in mourning,” Balin said. “It’s understandable. It’s painful, but it will pass.” 

Kíli shook his head; Balin didn’t understand. 

It should have been his uncle Thorin sitting here. Or Fíli. He was next in line, not him. Kíli was not prepared to take on this role, and indeed no one ever suspected he ever would. Thorin was strong and a leader, and Fíli had all the right attributes to become king. He had been trained since birth on every aspect, from walking and talking like a leader to fighting and commanding others. Kíli was pardoned from such training, a dwarf allowed to be nothing more than a mere child all his life. Kíli did not mind. He always saw Fíli as the future leader of their people. 

“Come on, laddie,” Balin said and helped Kíli to his feet. The heavy chest plate and thick velvet cape weighed him down further. This was not his place, Kíli thought with disdain. The clothes were meant for Thorin or Fíli. 

He followed Balin dutifully, but his mind was far from the dimly-lit hall. 

They had an agreement. It was the only way Thorin could agree to take them, two inexperienced young warriors, on such an ambitious quest. 

“Should danger be near, should either of you be faced with certain death, you must each drink from this flask,” Thorin had told them, and he made them vow. The flask was tiny, small enough to fit snuggly in the palm of their hand, but the potion inside was extremely potent. A few drops and the drinker would be mistaken by all for dead. Orcs had no use for corpses, so no harm would come to the drinker. It was Dís their mother who had spent the last of her savings to have such a potion brewed. Otherwise they would still have been at the Blue Mountains. 

Neither Kíli nor his brother Fíli wished to take the potion, desiring instead to prove themselves, but they knew what was at stake. The line of Durin must endure. Fíli had left behind an heir in the Blue Mountains, but the child still rested inside his wife’s womb, and Thorin and their mother Dís both told them that a child in the womb was no a guarantee to be a child in the outer world. “Many deaths occur at childbirth or before,” they had said. “Until the child is born, assume you are the last in the line of Durin.” 

But Kíli knew there was another reason for giving them the flask. It was the same reason why Fíli pulled him aside during the great battle and forced down his throat the contents of the flask. 

“Fíli, what are you doing?” Kíli choked out as he struggled to pushed Fíli off him, but his brother, though shorter than him, was far stronger. 

“I cannot see you die,” he said, breathing heavily. Cuts marred his face; one of his mustache braids had been yanked off, and thin lines of blood trailed down his chin. He pulled Kíli towards him and pressed the flask against Kíli’s lips, forcing down a few more drops. Truth be told the battle was brutal, and even with the dwarven, elven, and human armies joined together there was little hope that they would come out alive. But Kíli remained hopeful. He shoved Fíli away. 

“Please, save some for yourself if you insist on doing this!” As Kíli said those words a light-headedness clouded over his mind. “Promise!” he wanted to yell out, but he had lost all ability to speak. The world washed away from him. He could almost feel his blood flow slowing down, and he tried to grab for Fíli, suddenly terrified that he had taken too much and was actually dying. Right before darkness claimed him Kíli saw that a few more drops remained in the flask. 

Next thing he recalled was waking in a cold room. There was no telling how much time had passed. Calling out for his brother, Kíli reached out for Fíli’s hand as he looked around. The first thing he saw was a scene he never wanted to remember. Later he was told that his shrieks had woken the entire underground castle. Kíli had been taken for dead, and they had washed and dressed him, ready for the burial, when the potion had finally worn off. None had known, and a tragic sight had greeted them when they ran down to the dungeons. Kíli had thrown himself over his uncle and brother’s bodies, screaming at them to wake up. 

“Mahal’s mercy!” Dori’s voice had cried out at the sight, voicing the shock of every dwarf at the sight. Several rushed to Kíli for comfort before Dwalin picked up the squirming and shrieking dwarf away from the bodies. 

“It’s not going to bring them back,” Dwalin said gruffly, though his voice quivered. 

“No, Fíli is only sleeping! He can’t be dead!” Kíli screamed and fought against Dwalin’s hold. 

Balin shook his head sadly. “They’re not coming back, I’m afraid, laddie.” 

Later they told him that they had found Fíli draped over Kíli; orc arrows protruded from Fíli’s back and a great pool of blood surrounded them. He was already dead when they got to him, but Kíli refused to believe them. He asked if anyone had seen a small flask, but neither his friends nor the dwarves who prepared Fíli for the burial had claimed to see such a thing. Kíli knew there were still drops left in the flask. There was still a chance, he stubbornly told himself, even if the evidence was against him. Every day since he would return to the dungeon and sit waiting, praying, that they would open their eyes. 

The act had already led to rumors that he was an insane dwarf and an inept leader, a claim his remaining friends sought desperately to dispel. 

“Lord Kíli?” 

Kíli flinched. He could never get used to being addressed in this manner, and he didn’t want to think about how it would be after the coronation. It was worse when one of his companions had addressed him so. 

He looked up to the dwarves sitting at the table with him. He was seated in the king’s chair, though it would not be officially his until later tonight. Around him were all of the dwarves who had followed Thorin to Erebor. They were his cousins and friends, and Kíli had spent the entire journey looking up to them. He was the youngest among the party, but now every one of them were looking up to him. Admiration filled their eyes; Kíli had been transformed to appear as a majestic king for them, and they had fallen for the image. But Kíli hated every second of the attention. He could not be their pillar of strength. He was nothing like Thorin. He was no leader. 

Each of them were dressed far more splendidly than Kíli had ever seen them. Each had claimed their fourteenth of the share of the treasure, making each of them the richest dwarves of Erebor, and would perhaps remain so for a very long time. Kíli could not imagine anyone else who deserved it more. They had endured so much together. In the days past they had been discussing what each wanted to do with their time. Bofur had spoken about rekindling the mines under his name. Óin was setting up a hospital and school for students seeking to be healers. Ori had already been in talks with masons from the Iron Hills on architectural work around the kingdom. 

Erebor was still in the process of being rebuilt. Dwarves from the Iron Hills had offered in helping rebuild the dwarven city, though how many of them would move in as citizens still remained to be seen. None of those in Erebor currently dined with them. Kíli preferred being with the group he had traveled with for this feast. He felt closest to them, even if they now regarded him as an untouchable king. 

“Any news from the Blue Mountains?” Kíli asked. 

“Fann delivered,” Glóin said. 

Kíli drew a deep breath. Of course, it had been longer than seven months, the length of time it took for a dwarven child to come to the world. Fann, Fíli’s wife, must have delivered while they were still on their journey. Had Fíli thought at all of the child he would leave behind by not taking the potion?

“How is the child?” 

“Well from what I heard,” Glóin said. “Child and mother are both in health.” 

“And what is the child?” Kíli asked. “A son?” his heart leapt with hope. 

“Daughter.” The other dwarves muttered amongst themselves, all grinning. Daughters were rare for dwarves, and daughters born after such important events were regarded as a sign of good eras to come. But Kíli felt his spirits sink. He shouldn’t blame the child for something she had no control over. Although daughters were cherished they seldom if ever were leaders of dwarves. Their culture was too protective of them despite dwarven women being as capable of battle as the men. 

“Is it certain a daughter?” he asked hopefully. “This isn’t a twist to the news to celebrate our people’s success? You know it’s not always easy to tell the sexes apart in our race.” 

Balin studied him with deep pity. “It is a daughter, laddie.” 

Kíli glowered. It would not matter then if the child perceived herself the other sex; her body alone saved her the burden of this terrible responsibility. But the wish behind Kíli’s words were not lost on the other dwarves. Silence followed. The others ate with unusual quietness, nothing of the liveliness from their previous meals together. Even though Thorin seldom approved of their table manners, he himself would have been bothered by the sudden deadpan mood that fell over them. 

“Are they coming?” Kíli finally asked. “Fann and the child, I mean.” 

“They will, I am certain,” Balin said. “Your mother and sister should be on their way.” 

Kíli nodded. He wanted to look forward to them returning, but he could not imagine his family ever feeling the same with the absence of Fíli and Thorin. 

They carried on in silence. When the meal was complete, the dwarves filed out to get ready for the coronation. Balin and Dwalin remained behind. Balin helped Kíli with any remaining preparations. Dwalin stood close by, scrutinizing Kíli. Kíli felt the dwarf’s eyes on him and avoided looking up. He could sense he was disappointing Dwalin. This was no way to honor Dwalin’s closest friend. They both had taken the role of his confidants and advisors, and in Dwalin’s case also his bodyguard, but Kíli felt he was disappointing them both already. He was not made to be a leader. The crippling devastation made him just want to spend his days weeping for his loved ones. 

“Thorin and Fíli are not dead,” he told himself stubbornly. 

Balin placed something in Kíli’s hand, but before he could see it he knew what it was from the light which seemed to emit from it and suddenly fill the entire room. 

“I do not deserve the Arkenstone,” he said. 

“The Arkenstone is your birthright,” he explained softly. “It was discovered by your ancestor Thráin, first King under the Mountain, and has been handed down from king to king since. Please, put your mark on it, laddie.” 

“My uncle died for this family heirloom,” Kíli thought bitterly. He raised the jewel to his lips, and, whispering so that Balin could not hear, he quickly said his inner Dwarven name three times, then three times backwards, then three times regularly again. Every one of his ancestors who possessed the Arkenstone had done so. It was how dwarves claimed their most prized possessions. A dwarven name held power; some believed it to be tied to their very souls, thus they never revealed it. It was as heavily guarded as any other possession of a dwarf’s, and their inner name was never written on their own tombs, out of fear of wicked spirits seeking to tinker with the dwarves’ souls. 

By speaking his name into the Arkenstone Kíli marked it as his. His soul was now tied to his ancestors and to the jewel. He gave back the jewel to Balin, who fastened it lovingly on the clasps of Kíli’s cape. It rested heavily over his heart. 

Kíli touched the jewel, wondering how many of his ancestors had touched this, but he did not feel any closer to his kin. It was only a stone as cold as the bodies of his uncle and brother who refused to wake up.

* * *

Hundreds of dwarves gathered for the coronation, most of who were from the Iron Hills. Amongst them were Bilbo Baggins and Gandalf, and the ones who Kíli had come to call his closest friends. His eyes searched for Dain Ironfoot, who without him there would have been no survivors. He was regarding Kíli with sympathetic eyes, and he bowed his head and smiled encouragingly.

“He became king of his people when he was but eight-and-thirty,” Kíli reminded himself. “Half my age.” 

He stood tall, hoping his image would fool the rest of the dwarves as it had his friends. Balin stepped behind him; he needed a stool in order to be seen behind Kíli. He spoke, and Kíli felt the crown placed over his head. The crown was fashioned similarly to that of his great grandfather, with a raven at the center of the forehead. Every dwarf from his companions had contributed to its creation. Balin had said they wished to pour their love for Kíli in the first crown of New Erebor. But Kíli could not find any love for it. The crown had a headdress which fell on each side of his head, suffocating him and pressing him down further. Coupled with everything else he felt as though his neck was about to snap from its place. He was being constricted, by the crown above his head, the sides, the heavy ornaments dangling from his beard, the overheating cape. He was reminded of a coffin, of how Thorin and Fíli would be for all eternity, and his heart hammered frightfully fast. He almost tossed his crown away but he urged himself to remain calm. He was never trained to be a leader, but he had to do his best, for his uncle and brother. He could not dishonor their names. He must not fail them. 

He addressed his subjects, speaking in the manner Balin had taught him, all the while fighting to keep the shakiness from breaking through his voice. When he had finished and the crowd applauded his ascent to the throne, Kíli took several deep breaths to steady himself. 

Silence fell over the crowd. 

“All dwarves, please follow me,” Kíli said, fighting to keep his voice steady. He felt Balin squeeze his shoulder as he turned around. Balin met his eyes. “I will be fine,” Kíli said to Balin in a quiet voice. From the corner of his eye Kíli saw Gandalf hold Bilbo back. Kíli didn’t need to get closer to them to know what Gandalf was telling Bilbo. He wouldn’t be allowed to enter the tombs, for the procession had to be conducted in their native tongue. Although Gandalf understood Khuzdul, he was not set to visit either, out of respect. 

“Must be difficult not to attend the funeral of a friend,” Kíli thought. He was tempted to make an exception for Bilbo, but Balin already knew what he was thinking and he spoke first. 

“It won’t help your image, my King,” he said hesitantly. “Our language and customs are extremely personal to us, and…” 

“And others are already questioning my capability as a leader,” Kíli finished. Balin flinched, but there was no other way to state it. Kíli knew how unpopular he was among many of the dwarves, who were polite to him just to keep face. 

Kíli led the procession through many halls, down sloped ramps, inching closer to the deepest regions of the mountain kingdom. In Erebor’s old glory, a look down the parapet of the throne room would grant the eyes sight of burning gold and red of the mines and forges in the pits. The mines were massive, and from its fire the entire kingdom was kept warm. The pits had been pitch black for many years, but in the days previous, the dwarves have begun to rekindle the ancient mines, as Bofur had intended. The heat was still nothing to its full potential as there were still few miners about, but Kíli already found the heat overwhelming underneath all the thick layers of clothes. 

The warm light of the great hearth came and went, and an odd chill took over. Kíli’s heart pounded hard and painfully in his chest, the stories of his people suddenly loud and echoing in his mind. The emerald green of the stones soon led to black. 

He almost faltered when they reached the tombs. The burial site of the dwarves were at the lowermost region of the kingdom, making up the entire west regions of the mountain floor. Vast it was, able to swallow every dwarf and still leaving plenty of room to move about. The tombs was split into many rooms: one for the commoners, one for warriors, and so forth. A burial for the warriors lost during the great battle with the orcs and wargs had taken place the other day, although Kíli was not needed for this. The dwarves who had come to fight had their own undertakers amongst them. 

Kíli led his people to the tomb of the royal line. The hairs on his arms and back of neck stood on end the moment he was inside, as though he had just stepped back in time and met his ancestors. The dwarves held great reverence of their tombs; some believed they were gateways to Mahal’s Hall, that the spirits of the deceased sometimes returned. It disturbed Kíli just to be here. He could feel hundreds of eyes on him from the stone walls, as though every one of his ancestors were now studying him. 

He forced his attention to the two open tombs at the end of the hall. A dais stood between the tombs and the wall, and it was there that Kíli was to stand. The sight of the tombs drained the feeling of fear but replaced it with something far darker and more dreadful inside Kíli. His mouth suddenly became dry. He searched for Balin, who had went to stand with Dwalin. The brothers did not hide the tears. He wanted to cry out that he refused to do this. He could not do this. The pressure of the looming ritual was too much. 

But he was being watched; he couldn’t break now. The hall of the royal line was filled with the mourners. In front where Kíli’s companions, and he searched their eyes for support. The first to notice his dilemma was Bofur, who gave him an encouraging bow. Bifur and Bombur took note and followed Bofur’s action. He returned their gestures with a slight nod, grateful for their support. Footsteps nearby alerted him to three Iron Hills morticians, who approached him and bowed politely. Two held a heavy hammer adorned with onyx jewels. 

“You may begin,” Kíli spoke in their native tongue. 

At the first strike of the hammer against the stone, Kíli felt the ground disappear beneath him. He was not ready to let go, but he gathered up his strength. Chants filled the long hall as the morticians first spoke, their voices forged with the sound of their hammers, and soon they were followed by the other dwarves. It was a deep guttural chant, filled with emotion that only Khuzdul could carry. Kíli had always found his native tongue a beauty unmatched by any language he had ever heard. The words reverberated throughout the hall and vibrated inside their very cores. Only the language of the dwarves could carry this magic, Kíli marveled. 

A pride and passion for his heritage filled him, and for the first time there was a strength that wasn’t there before. “For my uncle and brother,” he thought. He threw open his arms and let his words roll out, thunderous in the hall. 

“ _Mahal our Maker! We Present to Thee souls of our beloveds!_ ” he spoke loudly, yet accentuating every syllable, letting it absorb in the stone walls. The mourners repeated his words. “ _Mahal Mighty! Our beloved are in Thy Hands!_ ”

The chill grew, and a low rumble was soon heard over the chanting, and some had become quiet as a nervousness filled the hall. The distinctive sound of footsteps, as though an army of dwarves clad in full armor, was marching towards them. Some dwarves huddled closer together, but they kept to their chants. 

“ _Mahal our Maker! Thou hath created us, and to Thee we return to Thy Forge!_ ”

Several mourners cried out. 

“ _To Thy Forge we all must return! We release our beloveds to Thy Hands, O Maker!_ ” 

The voice of the dwarves roared, their chants mingled with tears and individual prayers. The echoing footsteps drew closer and closer still. 

Kíli stepped down from the dais and made his way to Fíli’s tomb first. It was odd seeing him missing one side of his mustache. The dwarves didn’t shave off the other. It would have been a sign of disrespect. Despite being dressed in the royal blue, red, and gold armor of Durin’s line, he brother might just have been sleeping. 

“Fíli, please wake up,” Kíli whispered in his brother’s ear. “Please.” He waited for a few more seconds, the chants and striking of the hammer in his ears, but Fíli didn’t open his eyes. Tears threatened to fall, but Kíli pushed them back. “I love you, Fíli,” Kíli said. He kissed Fíli’s brow before placing his right hand over Fíli’s heart. As a close relative Kíli knew Fíli’s inner name, and he whispered it quickly, lest anyone by Mahal should hear, and added, “I release you to Mahal.” He moved back and pushing the stone plate over the tomb. Another mortician stepped up and sealed the stone tomb with molten iron. Kíli sent Fíli’s spirit to their maker, and the mortician united the body with stone.

Tears fell, lost in the mass of cries and hammer strikes and the constant metal footsteps. Kíli moved to the next tomb. His breath was taken away at the beauty and majesty of how his uncle had been dressed. He will walk Mahal’s Hall with utmost pride. 

Again he tried in vain to see if Thorin would wake, but he knew his uncle couldn’t have taken the potion. He survived the battle but died of his wounds. There were witnesses. At this point, Kíli’s back was turned from the entire kingdom, and a mad thought came to him. Somehow, it felt right doing this, and he could take advantage of his angle so he would not be caught in the act. He slipped off the Arkenstone from his cape and placed it over his uncle’s heart. 

“You always loved this jewel more than I ever will,” Kíli said, his voice breaking. “I love you, Thorin.” He repeated the ritual, kissing Thorin’s brow and speaking so that only Mahal could hear Thorin’s inner name; he released his uncle’s spirit. The stone slab screeched into place, and Kíli heard heavy sobs that he somehow knew were from Thorin’s closest friends. His part was done, and the extent of what he had just done dawned on him. He took a step back, studying the two tombs who would remain with their ancestors forever. He himself had closed the tombs; he buried his brother and uncle. 

“This cannot be happening,” he kept telling himself. The metal footsteps continued mercilessly. They were taking away his family. He wasn’t even aware of it, but he had slipped far from the procession. He caught sight of Balin and Dwalin who had approached the tombs, their prayers and wails caught in the chanting behind them. He could not decide which was worse witnessing: Dwalin in a state of weakness, or Balin, such an elderly dwarf among them, nearly shattered in his grief. 

The other companions had also begun to break down. Dori and Nori both had to comfort Ori, who was trembling in fright of the supernatural event taking place around them. A dwarf younger than himself was squeezing Glóin’s hand. Óin’s head was lowered, his ear trumpet held at his waist. Bofur and his family stood huddled together, pale in face and shaking. It occurred to Kíli that in that moment it truly hit home for the three dwarves that their friends were gone forever. It was still dawning on Kíli what it must mean for them. 

He had no close family to cry on their shoulder. That family that remained were unable to comfort him, separated by mountains and forests and rivers far away. Loneliness strangled him underneath the layers of clothes and jewelry. 

Suddenly, jealousy erupted inside him. His friends he no longer regarded with love but a deep envy and loathing. Why did it have to be Ori that was being comforted? Why was he, Kíli, standing alone while the others got to comfort their own sorrows? Were most of these dwarves not also his family? In the past, it would have been Fíli by his side, but now Kíli was meant to stand alone and be their strength. 

None could have strength to endure what he was going through, to wake next to the corpses of their brother, their life-long dearest friend, and be expected to run a new nation back to its former glory. 

They said they will support him, but now they huddled in their tiny groups, all forgetting Kíli completely. He almost wished ill on the others, to see their families torn apart. 

A scream threatened to rip out from him. He was being selfish, he knew it. The others had suffered in the past. He knew Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur had buried many loved ones before; and Balin and Dwalin had to bury a loved one after every battle. No matter how much they’ve lost, the grief was still too real for them. 

And Kíli was wishing them more ill. The thought of his selfishness sickened him. 

The footsteps. Kíli blamed it all on them. It was driving him mad, the souls of his every ancestor passing by to collect more for their hoard. He slipped away from the mourners, hoping his absence would not be noted. He needed the moment alone. He could not play the role of king much longer. 

No one stopped him, or perhaps no one noticed. Kíli ran out the vast tombs, past the rekindled mines, and higher and higher he went till he was back in his rooms. He did not take a moment to remove anything; slamming the door shut, he slid against the door. He wept loudly into his hands, his entire body racked with grief. Since waking in the dungeon he kept denying it, pushing it out of his mind out of fear of the truth. But he could no longer deny it, and the truth came crashing down on him. 

They were truly gone. He cried and begged Mahal to take him too, and screamed until there was no more energy left in him and he was left to weep silently. 

And as he wept for Thorin and Fíli he could hear, though distantly, the sound of two echoing metal footsteps retreating down the hall and disappearing into the darkness.


	2. A Private Meeting

The weeks following Thorin and Fíli’s burial saw no improvement in Kíli’s condition as Balin had hoped. Instead he was left to watch helplessly as his young cousin’s sickness progressed deeper into an unshakable darkness. Crying spells were becoming more frequent, and at times Kíli was unable to control them while in the company of others. There was no joy in eating, nor in listening to songs whatever dwarven minstrel played for him. All too often the songs led Kíli to tears even if he did not know the tale they sung, and he had to request no more playing at mealtimes. The affair became so silent, usually broken just by his poorly-disguised sobs, and soon seldom anyone dined with him aside from Balin and Dwalin (at Balin’s urging.) 

Balin remained loyal to Kíli. He was willing to do anything to show Kíli love and support, but it seemed there was little he could do to heal the pain inside Kíli. It was not as if Balin himself was unaffected by his cousin and friend’s death. Thorin, one of his dearest lifelong friends, and Fíli, so young and with a family left behind. The realization of their deaths had nearly ended his own life, but while the pain still lingered he was finding the strength to face the world again. He had seen much death and had dealt with them before. But it had destroyed Kíli. He had never come across a dwarf with so much sorrow inside, and he wondered how much of it was because Kíli had lived an easy life before this moment. 

The amount of stress from Kíli’s duties as king was only making things worse for him. By the end of the day Kíli often felt so drained of energy that it became harder to get up the next morning. In time he became bed-bound, refusing to leave unless if he was coaxed out. Meanwhile, the pile of work to tend to continued to grow without mercy. Balin regularly came in to gently nudge him out of bed, and all too often he had to help Kíli bathe and dress. It was as if lead had seeped into Kíli’s veins and paralyzed his body. His movements became sluggish and had Balin not been at his side, he would have completely ignored his appearance. 

There was not one shred of joy left in Kíli’s heart, nor any motivation for anything. Balin wondered if Kíli would even bat an eyelash if the kingdom just collapsed. None of its troubles affected him, but at times Erebor seemed to affect Kíli too much, enough for him to feel fevered and insane by the pressures crushing at him from every angle. And Balin had to witness it and endure it, to hold his young cousin and pray for some way to release this agony from him. 

Balin had endured many things in his life. But he feared this would be the end of him.

* * *

Kíli regretted every second ever spent before this moment. He should have pushed for Thorin to prepare him for kinghood. His uncle cared for him, he knew that, and wanted for him to enjoy life without the responsibilities Fíli had, but that love doomed him. He was too protected. He didn’t need to be trained with the sword upon learning how to walk. His studies were anything he chose to pursue, and his interests never lay in the kind of work that was expected from a king. He loved the outdoors, studying forests and stones. His childhood was spent collecting and examining interestingly shaped rocks and observing the sedimentary rock layers on the western borders of the Ered Luin. Closing his eyes, he would run his hands over the surface, deriving meaning, a story and history of every inch. 

And of course he enjoyed hunting, which led him to his first love in his life: the bow and arrow. The first bow he made all by himself without ever studying one before, and he found a new joy in its making. This was his handiwork, being so intimate with the earth and being able to create without needing a teacher. It had done so much for his feelings of self-worth. He did not ever feel shamed for having to wear his beard so short; every weapon, and every musical instrument, he possessed was made by himself. He walked the streets of the dwarven realm with his head held high. 

But Kíli understood nothing of the political sciences, much less being depended on making decisions for an entire kingdom. He was schooled on it eventually, but he never took it seriously. His passion was in the rocks of the Ered Luin, not this. Most of the requests sent by the dwarves went over Kíli’s head. Balin tried to help him, but Kíli could not rely on his cousin forever. Though Kíli had appointed Balin as one of his chief councilors, by dwarven law Balin could not make the final decision. Even should he lie and pretend his writing was Kíli’s, it would act as a curse on the kingdom. That was the dwarven superstition, at the very least, but after the funeral Kíli did not like the idea of tempting the unknown. 

But Kíli needed Balin’s knowledge. Together they went over every page of dwarven law. Most of them would remain the same, as dwarves were content with their customs, but any changes to the world around required their laws be kept up to date. But no matter what his final decision was, Kíli never knew if it was the best choice. His previous sense of pride at his work crumbled at the sight of the work he was expected to carry out. 

His approval was needed for seemingly every aspect of life: trade with the neighboring realms, how much and how frequently, and what taxes to place. Every area of life needed consideration: food and drinks, textile, mining supplies (as much of it was lost in Smaug’s attack), and even workers hired from the Iron Hills. He was depended on jump-starting the restored kingdom, but he could not make the decisions easily. It did not make matters any better that every decision was met with disproval from someone. With the winter upon them, Mirkwood and Dale both were more hesitant about the amount of food and herbs they were willing to trade, but dwarven appetites were great. 

Some of the other dwarves were becoming openly harsh towards him. To his shock, Dori had come storming in one day demanding why Kíli hadn’t done anything to lower the price requested by the Lake-town for each square pace of textile sold. Kíli had not even reached Dori’s request from his massive pile; he did not even know Dori had a complaint. And in realizing this Dori had reprimanded him, utterly humiliating him in front of the other councilors. His attitude had left Kíli crushed and defeated. Fortune had gone to all of his companions’ heads, he felt, and in turn it made him feel more isolated from them than before. 

It was bad enough the dwarves from the Iron Hills were growing a distaste for him. Ori had come to him with an issue that had never crossed Kíli’s mind before. Among the masons from the Iron Hills was their most renowned architect named Jalar, and he was enraged with a design which Ori had set forth involving change in the irrigation system. A new style of aqueducts had become popular use in Dale, and Ori wanted to bring the new format into Erebor. But Askor insisted that the dwarves’ current system was perfectly fine, if in need of some refining. Kíli listened to both sides, and he tried to ration his way. Dwarves were protective of the old ways, but a new technology had to mean a better way of handling things, and an issue like this involving water usage was in the best interest of the health of his kingdom. Thus Kíli gave his favor over to Ori. Askor stormed out afterwards, ranting something about nepotism and inept leaders. 

Crushed, Kíli grew quiet. Another Iron Hill dwarf had grown disenchanted with him, and he wondered gloomily how much longer it will be before only some of his friends remained in Erebor out of politeness. But Ori was smiling genuinely, and sensing the turmoil in Kíli, he ran up to him and clasped his hands. 

“It’s a smart decision, Your Majesty,” Ori said brightly before bowing his head down to ‘kiss’ Kíli’s hand with his forehead. “I studied the aqueducts when we were in Lake-town. It’s more sanitary than what we even had in the Blue Mountains, and it’s modern.” 

“Thank you, Ori,” Kíli said, wishing deep down that his own friends could just use his name. 

“And, um, I don’t think Dori really meant what he said to you,” Ori added sheepishly. Kíli’s lips turned into a thin line. He thanked Ori again, though a bit coldly, before releasing him.

* * *

His mother and sister still had not arrived to Erebor. Dwarves have been journeying to the Lonely Mountain from the Blue Mountains ever since hearing news of their victory. Among the first was Bombur’s family. His wife declared that her family left their home five months after Bombur had left. Their journey had not been easy, but they managed to avoid the bulk of the misfortunes Kíli’s group had faced. In the months following more dwarves followed, but Dís, Míli Kíli’s sister, and even Fann and her child were never among them. It did not stop Kíli from sitting out at the secret passage of the Lonely Mountain, the same place where his companions had waited for a chance to enter Erebor, a time which seemed so long ago. He waited for them until the sun began to set or until the chill became too much for him to endure. 

Although none of his remaining family could rule in his place, Kíli missed their presence. He hoped they would raise his spirits, though he knew they could not replace the void left by Thorin and Fíli. The support of family had gotten them all through when his father had passed away unexpectedly more than fifty years ago. Even the thought of his father now brought out a long-buried grief. When Kíli had heard the news, it was Thorin who took him into his arms and held him as he wept, and he did not let go until the worst of the pain inside Kíli had left him. Thorin loved Kíli so much that he would not even let death hurt his sister-son. And because of that Kíli was left without any means to endure this painful loss.

* * *

On nights when the day’s events had been brutally hectic, Kíli spent his nights thinking back of his old life before all this, of simpler times. When he was not studying rocks he was a lazy dwarf, remaining in bed well after the sunrise. It had become a pattern for his mother to send Míli to try to wake him. 

Míli was born about fourteen years after him, a distance in age which was uncommon among dwarves. While there was a joy in being able to hold her while she was an infant, what with Fíli not in the house it meant that Kíli was left to deal with a tiny nightmare on his own. He would be in the middle of some pleasant dream involving lunches by the beach when a jab at his stomach made him crack open one eye. 

“Wake up!” the dwarfling Míli said. “Mummy said so!” Kíli pretended he didn’t hear her and kept snoozing, albeit loudly. He knew there would still be breakfast when he finally got up. 

Undeterred by his tactic, Míli jabbed him harder, then when that didn’t work she unleashed a series of playful slaps on his stomach while screaming at him to wake up. That earned her a terrible dragon-like roar which sent her screaming and laughing as she ran out of the room. She returned to find him sleeping on his belly this time, and she attempted to wake him again, earning herself another roar coupled with a hand reaching for her, a dragon seeking to snatch and crush her. 

But no dragon scared Míli. She entered his room several more times and was chased out every time by a bigger dragon. Just when Kíli thought she had finally left him alone, he opened his eyes tentatively…and saw a pair of large brown eyes peeking over the bed’s edge, studying him. He turned to the other side. “Leave me alone, demon child!” 

“If you don’t get up now, I will carve your inner-name on our doorsteps and the mountain-wights will get your soul!” she squealed, pounding the mattress beside Kíli’s head. He groaned loudly. 

“You don’t even know my inner-name!”

“Yes I do!” 

“You’re not older enough to know yet!” 

“I heard you say it!” 

“I’d never say it loud enough with you nearby!” 

“I heard it! I did! It’s-” 

“Shut it!” 

Kíli finally crawled out of bed grumpy and defeated, having had enough torture from his little sister. He lifted her easily in his arms, and she squealed with playful dread at her punishment. He marched through the house, holding Míli over his head, and sang out for Mahal to take her back to His Forge. 

The song amused them much, but not Dís once she heard his words. After screaming at Kíli, she made him promise to never, even jokingly, wish death on a loved one. 

What he would give to have those days back. They now resided in only his dreams. 

“My king?” 

There was no prodding at his belly. Instead, a slightly shaking hand was rested on his shoulder. Balin’s smile greeted Kíli. 

“Balin…please, you can just call me by my name.” 

Balin nodded, a sad smile on his face. “Dain Ironfoot is waiting for you.” 

“He got my letter,” Kíli said, a hint of relief in his voice. 

“He arrived as the sun rose. He said he didn’t want to leave you waiting.” 

“And I am grateful for that.” Kíli sat up groggily, groaning at the ache in his back. “Make certain he is tended to.” 

“Of course, my king - Kíli.” 

Balin helped him prepare for the breakfast. Since his coronation Kíli had opted for less layers and armor. For this meeting he wore a simple dark red robe, and Balin helped him with adding his beard ornaments. His beard had grown much longer since, though it was not full like his grandfathers. It was a angular beard which now reached down to his chest. But at least now the long dangling jewelry could be put away. Balin braided a section of his beard with utmost tenderness, and when he was done he clipped the braid into place with elegant golden clasps encrusted with sapphires and rubies. It was nothing like what Kíli wore on his coronation, and he much preferred it that way. 

Once ready, he set off eastward to the private dining room. It was mainly used for meals among the royal family in addition to private conferences held between the king and another. Not even Balin would be allowed in. 

Kíli thanked Balin before entering. A butler, perhaps Janur or Febar, Bombur’s daughter and son, had already set out the breakfast. Sitting at the other side of the table waiting patiently was Dain Ironfoot. His smile instantly brought a comfort inside Kíli, and upon seeing the young king, Dain stood up to greet him.

* * *

Dain Ironfoot had come the moment he received King Kíli’s letter. Gathering up his chief counselors and a few of his warriors, he marched to the Lonely Mountain with very little rest. He had heard much about the young king, most of which he was sorry to hear. Others he suspected were pure malicious rumors, and he tried to get as much of the truth from Balin first. He had no doubt Kíli would make a strong king. Kíli came from the direct line of Durin; leadership was in his blood. But his current condition had to be taken into account and respected, Dain felt. And whatever sorrow Kíli had inside was not to be used against him; he needed time, and some guidance. 

Dain was also eager to meet Kíli since the coronation. They exchanged letters but had seldom chance to speak with one another such as now. Which meant this meeting was of extreme importance for them both, and for the dwarves of both Erebor and the Iron Hills. 

“King Kíli! How do you fare?” Dain asked as he bowed politely before clasping Kíli’s hand. 

“Please, just Kíli.” Kíli gave him a shy smile. They both knew how Kíli was doing, but it did not hurt to keep things polite. 

They settled down, but neither touched their meal. Kíli appeared lost in thought, biting his lip and his fingers clasping and unclasping his fork. 

“I understand things in Erebor have been difficult for you,” Dain said. 

Kíli laughed lightly. “That is a simple way of saying things. Have you…heard anything?” 

“A lot,” he said. “Bad, but also plenty of good.” When Kíli looked surprised, he offered him a kind smile. “Not all of my people are impatient. Their ancestry lies in Erebor, and they are eager to return here no matter what complaints they’ve heard.” 

“Despite my poor leading?” 

“You are not a bad king, Kíli. You are suffering right now.”

“I am worthless,” Kíli said, his voice breaking. He lowered his head, but Dain saw the tears. The crying spells. Nearly everyone knew about that, and some of the lesser kind dwarves had begun to purposely switch around the runes of Kíli’s name to spell ‘likí’ - ‘leaky’ in the Mannish tongue. King Leaky, the weakling king who burst into tears before his subjects. Kíli did not deserve this sort of mockery after the horror he had experienced. 

“Don’t hold back your tears,” Dain said. “It’s not a sign of weakness. You are still fighting a battle, and these are the signs of your endurance.” 

Kíli nodded and whispered a word of thanks. He did not hide his face then, letting his tears run freely. He dabbed at his eyes, but kept the conversation going. The sight ached Dain’s heart. 

“Do you think I should seek a healer?” 

“For your sorrow? But what cure is there for a sickness of the heart? Dwarves are made of stone and endure most things. Your grief will pass in time.” 

“But what of the kingdom?” Kíli said. “It is more than my heart that is diseased. It is also in my mind. I do not feel alive in this state.” 

Ascending to the throne was no easy change to go through. Dain knew it first hand; he had his own nightmarish stories to tell as a young monarch. But he was properly trained and had much support from friends and family. If the rumors were true, some of Kíli’s own companions had turned their backs, choosing to pay more attention to their fortune and their work than aiding Kíli. 

Dain tried to sway Kíli’s attention to less pressing matters, bringing up the subject of Kíli forging his own weapons. He hoped having the dwarf talk of his talents would gladden his heart. But the longer the time went between them, the more it became clear to Dain that Kíli simply wasn’t fit to rule. He still had no doubt that Kíli would make a fine leader, once he returned to his normal state. There were too many demons in his mind, and a leader needed to be sharp for the challenges ahead. It was a crime that the people of Erebor even had allowed him to rule for this long while in a debilitated condition. 

“And that is why you wrote to me for aid,” he said at last, bringing the discussion back to Kíli’s letter. “I do not doubt you now after having spoken with you.” 

Kíli nodded. “I would give you all of Erebor to rule. Your people love you.” 

“I cannot take the throne from you, Kíli,” Dain said. “As law states, you are the rightful King Under the Mountain until your death. But, if you feel this is the only option for you, there is the possibility of getting you a regent.” 

“I was reading on regency,” Kíli said. “I’ve heard of it for men and elves, but not us. There was never a dwarf to be regent before.” 

“There was never need of one,” Dain said. “Family always served with family, that was a given. A king dies; his son takes the throne. If there is no son, then the closest living relative steps in. We never have been in a situation before where one king willfully asks to step down from the throne.” 

“I cannot rule this kingdom,” Kíli said. 

“I understand,” Dain said, and he meant it. He could see the desperation in Kíli’s eyes to find some means out of his troubles. “And I intend to help you.” 

“Will you become my regent?” 

Both knew the answer immediately. Dain sighed. 

“I’m afraid I can’t, dear cousin. As family, I can only advise you. By law I am too close in relation to you to do what is required of me in order to become your regent. You know what I speak of?” 

Kíli nodded. “A political marriage.” 

“Our people have come up with the concept long ago when some had no heirs but wished to protect their assets,” Dain said, “to ensure it was not just taken by any dwarf after their passing. It is a marriage in every way, but it need not be consummated if that is not what either party wishes. By being bonded to you, this regent has access to anything you allow him, thus he can make the decisions that Balin cannot make in your place.” 

“I wanted Balin to be my regent.” 

“He’s married to another, and a close cousin.”

“I know,” Kíli said. “He cannot and would not do it. He is content to remain only as my chief advisor, though he cannot do everything for me. And I think he secretly wishes to go to Khazad-dûm.” 

Dain’s nostrils flared. “He mustn’t enter Khazad-dûm! I warned your grandfather of the danger which lies there!” 

“I might have planted the thought in Balin’s mind,” Kíli said, giving him an apologetic smile. “It was always my dream to take back the land from whence Durin himself first awoke. I always thought killing a Balrog would not require much.” His laughter sounded sad to Dain’s ears. “But now nothing seems easy to me. And as for these laws about regency…” Kíli shook his head. “It is a terrible flaw in our system.” 

“I cannot argue with that,” Dain said sympathetically. “It can also be bothersome, depending on your goals in this life. With a political marriage you cannot marry another while bonded to the first.” 

“I do not plan on getting married,” Kíli said. “I never…I do not have _desire_. I’ve always admired others, and not just dwarves, but I’ve come to realize it has always been more of a hero-worship and childlike admiration than a martial love.” 

Dain nodded, deciding not to ask Kíli if he would marry just to continue his line. Few dwarves desired a mate, though Durin’s direct line had always sought to procreate even if they were through a political marriage. But Kíli seemed to be among the type who had not a drop of need, someone purely asexual in makeup and concerned more with the workings of his hands. But that would be fine in this case. 

“Then I will ask my men and search the genealogies in Erebor’s library,” Dain said. “For our sake, the regent must still be one of Durin’s folk.” 

“Can’t you be my regent?” Kíli asked, his eyes pleading and his hands wringing. “Can’t you find some means to change the law to allow this one bond? We are already connected by blood. Why can I not just hand you my crown?” Dain’s heart melted, but he could not bend the hard laws of their people. 

“I’m afraid I don’t hold that kind of power,” he said. “Dwarves hold tight to their possessions, and your throne is considered as much a possession worth guarding as any gold. You will have to be politically married to give it away, or pass it on to a son. As family, I can only advise you. And like Balin I am already bond to another. But I will find someone I trust with my life to help you.” 

He leaned forward and stuck out his hands. Kíli took his, and Dain knew the younger dwarf needed some physical comfort. He was alarmed at how clammy Kíli’s hands were. “I may not rule the kingdom of Erebor, but I will help you in any way that I can. Please promise that you will keep communications with me. The distance between here and the Iron Hills aren’t so wide. I will send my raven Huginn to check up on you regularly.” 

Kíli nodded and thanked him several times. When the meal was done and Kíli had left, Dain settled back on his chair, deep in contemplation. He hoped he was making the right decision. He would step up and help Kíli in any way he could, but the laws never took into account kings who may suffer from debilitating illnesses. The least he could do is train Kíli while the regent was ruling in his place. 

But who was to be the regent? Dain considered who among his men would be best suited: someone of noble birth, of Durin’s line but distantly related from Kíli by at least seven degrees. Three names came to him. 

Oglûk was the youngest of the candidates and perhaps the one Kíli would feel most comfortable with. The dwarf was the least inexperienced than the other two, but he was a swift learner and had demonstrated a great intellect. His thirst for acquiring new knowledge could help them both to greatness. Dain had no doubt Oglûk could help Kíli rebuild Erebor. But, would two inexperienced kings be better than one? 

Ginnar was next, older than Oglûk but perhaps the most experienced in the work of a king, having worked alongside Dain as well as his grandfather the most. But he was also highly opinionated who loved to argue. He would deem a day wasted if he did not start a few shouting matches along the way. Perhaps Kíli did not need such an intense dwarf at this time. 

Nrar was the third. He was very charismatic, with friends from every dwarven tribe. Dain had appointed Nrar as second-in-command in the Iron Hills army, impressed as he was by the dwarf’s capabilities as leader. Although Nrar wasn’t related to him, he knew the dwarf personally and was confident Nrar would help bring Erebor back to its original splendor with the connections that he possessed. And Dain knew Nrar was not completely of Durin’s line. His mother was of the Blacklocks, or perhaps she herself was a mix. He would have to check, but he was certain Nrar was of a noble line, something which he did not believe the other two were. 

But Nrar was also the eldest, and recently he was harsh at times; perhaps Kíli would find it the most difficult to relate to a tough dwarf of an older generation. 

Nonetheless these three were Dain’s closest chiefs and advisors, and he decided it was best to look into the matter further with them first. The sooner he found a regent for Kíli, the better it will be for the suffering dwarf.

* * *

It felt good to cry and not feel guilty about it. Dain was so understanding Kíli wished the dwarf was in Erebor more often, or even rule Erebor as leader in his place. He was wise and fair, Kíli thought, understanding and willing to help. He kept thinking of how wrinkles formed around Dain’s eyes as he gave Kíli warm smiles. 

As glad as Kíli was, the meeting had also earned him a colder reception at dinner, as Dwalin and Balin both sensed what the topic of the meeting had been. Dwalin had become oddly cold towards Kíli in recent weeks. Kíli never asked why, but he assumed it was because of all his failures. He was humiliating his entire line. He heard of the rumors, of the jabs and snickers his own people whispered about him. But he could not just shake away this illness and become a dwarven lord overnight. It was getting worse, and the work pile had become little mountains littering his office. He must have been the worse leader in the line of Durin, and he was eager to pass the burden onto someone else. 

“It will only be temporary,” Kíli said, trying to diffuse the tension. But neither of his cousins responded to that. He almost broke his bowl of stew on the ground. Did any of them realize what living with this illness was like? 

Balin drew a deep sigh, and Dwalin stabbed his steak with his fork with such might that Kíli jumped. Dwalin’s head snapped up. 

“Does every little thing send you shivering like a leaf in the wind?” he spat. He jumped to his feet, his appetite gone. “You are not Thorin’s sister-son.” 

“Please, Dwalin,” Kíli called out. But Dwalin disappeared in the night, and Kíli could not hold back the tears. Balin did nothing at first, but he stood up and laid a hand on Kíli’s shoulder. But the earlier comfort Balin often gave him was not there. 

Balin did all he could to train him, but it simply wasn’t working. Kíli’s brain wasn’t wired to think like a king, and his misery was only making it worst. None of this was Balin’s fault. But Balin was crushed, he could sense, and in turn Dwalin was enraged at Kíli as though he was somehow responsible. The fact that Dwalin wasn’t often by his side standing as guard was not lost to Kíli. It made thinking of the past, of him admiring Dwalin’s heroics and spending time with him, all the more painful.

“I am suffering,” he whispered to Balin. “Why can’t you understand that?” 

Balin sighed. “I understand, laddie. It is just that…this is as good as giving up your thrown to a complete stranger.” 

“But Dain is selecting him,” Kíli said. “I trust Dain.” 

But Balin shook his head. “The rightful leader of Erebor should be of the direct line of Durin. It has been since its beginning.”

* * *

Kíli assumed it would take Dain at least a week to finalize everything, but after two days Dain requested another meeting. Again Kíli returned to the private dining hall, but the air in the room was different this evening. Dain sat with another dwarf with long, dark auburn hair and beard, and who sat upright as though he were the king of all dwarves. 

Dain stood up and introduced Kíli to the other dwarf. 

“Kíli, meet Nrar, one of my chief councilors and second-in-command of the Iron Hills army,” Dain said happily. 

Nrar gave a curt nod and clasped Kíli’s hand tightly. He was taller than even Kíli, and immediately Kíli felt intimated by the dwarf. His eyes were a vivid shade of gold, beautiful yet frightening at once. “At your service.” His voice was oddly smooth for a dwarf, yet there was an air of something that made Kíli decide this was not a dwarf to cross. 

“Nice to meet you, Nrar,” Kíli stammered out and slipped onto his chair. The two dwarves reseated themselves. 

Dain went into speaking about Nrar to Kíli. As it turned out, Nrar was descended of all seven lines of dwarves, and was Kíli’s ninth cousin once removed. He was closer to the noble line of the Blacklocks and Firebeards than the Longbeards, but his connection to all dwarven lines was still impressive to hear. Kíli did not think he ever heard of such lineage before. In addition to this, Nrar had many friends who would help rebuild Erebor should he call for them. 

Kíli listened intently, a silver of hope glowing in his chest. He vaguely remembered Nrar from the coronation as one of the many dwarves who stood around Dain. He never would have thought this dwarf could be the solution to his problem, and he was ever grateful. 

All the while they spoke, Kíli felt Nrar’s eyes boring down on him. This was the only downside to Nrar, Kíli felt. He hadn’t felt this nervous when he dined with Dain privately, despite Dain being dressed in his best and adorned in ornaments and gold. Nrar was, if possible, even more finely adorned, and beside the two majestic dwarves Kíli felt like a mere child of a commoner background. But there was something else. Although Nrar seldom spoke, when he did his voice was so soft and smooth, and it seemed everything was leaning forward to hear him. A great power nestled inside Nrar, and Kíli was almost afraid to give up the throne to him, remembering Balin’s words. 

But Kíli listened as well as he could. The other two dwarves Dain had in mind had not fit the attributes needed to be his regent. Oglûk was Kíli’s sixth cousin, which was a shame for Kíli liked the sound of him. But Nrar was more than willing, finding it his duty to answer Erebor’s call for a leader. Ginnar, the third candidate, could have also done it, but Kíli didn’t like the fact that the dwarf liked to argue. At least Nrar only spoke when he saw it fit. 

“And he has connections in every part of Middle-earth,” Dain added, smiling at his chief councillor. “If there is any trouble you run across, you are sure to have Nrar help you.” 

Kíli nodded and attempted a smile to Nrar, who must have not seen it. 

When they were done speaking, Dain turned to Nrar expectedly; taking the hint Nrar excused himself and left. The click of the door locking behind him echoed in the silent dining room. 

“What do you think?” Dain asked. 

“I would have much preferred Oglûk,” Kíli thought. But he said, “And this is the dwarf I will be marrying?” 

“Politically speaking,” Dain said. “Again, there need not be romantic love or consummation between you, although you both must still respect one another. You are required only to grant him control of the kingdom as regent. And by marriage is the only way you can legally give the throne to him. It is a temporary thing. Once you are fit and ready, you may dissolve the marriage then. The only way Nrar will become permanent king is should you die, and may Mahal forbid that from happening.” 

Kíli considered. “No consummation. Different rooms then. I prefer that.” But he wasn’t certain how his friends - he at least hoped they still were his friends - would take such news. Perhaps Dwalin would leave Erebor forever, Kíli thought, forsaking the homeland he had dreamed of for so long because of a terrible king who fled from his crown. 

And the last thing Dain said stirred unease inside him. 

Dain was studying him, concerned. “Is something the matter?” 

Kíli shook his head. “Just need to think, that is all.” He grew silent for a while, and just when he felt Dain was about to speak, he quickly added, “I approve of this bond, if he also agrees to it. I will have Nrar be my regent.” 

When Dain at last left, Kíli sighed, the sound reverberating in the empty room. The tears fell as he looked about himself. Once this place was full of family, many he never met; now he sat alone in the house of his ancestors, terrified and uncertain. He was about to give up on Dain’s offer out of fear of losing more support around him. He counted the names of his companions who had seemingly turned their backs on him the moment their riches fell on their laps and inflated their brains. 

He knew he was being unfair to some of them. Ori was working hard at rebuilding, although some of his ideas, often inspired by their travels, confused the Iron Hills’ architects. And Nori…he knew nothing of what the thief did; he had not received any complaints about robbery or crimes pointing towards Nori, so he supposed that was one good fortune to hold on to. Óin and Glóin didn’t pay him much mind, although he knew that Óin needed material for both his apothecary and medical school. Balin was doing everything he could to help Kíli, and Kíli wanted to make certain Balin understood the failings of Kíli had nothing to do with him. 

Deciding he would do exactly that, Kíli left the dining room and made for Balin’s private chambers. The doors were locked, and suddenly realizing what time it must be he thought better than to startle the elderly dwarf awake. He made his way to his own bedchambers, head hung low. 

He took off his crown and placed it on his bedside. Each of his companions had put a bit of themselves in making this for him. He wondered if they ever thought of that moment every time they complained or fought with him. Staring at the crown now was aching his heart thickly, and as he looked about his room he wished another would be with him. Not necessarily a lover - he did mean it when he said he had no desire. The closest he ever got was feeling affection for a elven warrior, but even those emotions now lay dead in him. 

He leaned back on his bed, a large bed made for the dwarven king and queen, and placed the crown over his chest. It would be the closest he could be to his friends right now. 

“They will need to make a new crown, for Nrar,” he thought to himself in realization. He would have to ask Bofur, as the dwarf had extended his reign to not just the mines but also the gemcutters and smithies. 

Kíli smiled sadly. Bofur and his family were not of his kin, and since the funeral he had seen extremely little of them. The most he could gather was that the mining work had been growing. The fires of the forges kept the entire kingdom well warm so far this winter. There were no complaints coming from them, however, at least nothing that he had gotten wind of. And that gladdened his heart. He remembered the gestures of encouragement Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur had given him during the funeral, and his mind had often returned to that in the weeks since. While the others focused on their own grief, the three paid him attention, if for a moment. 

Memories of their journey and laughter during the quest broke through Kíli’s thoughts. Smiling, he set the crown back on the bedside. He could not wait till the next day when he would meet with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was difficult to get through, but I am content with it at last. :) Please excuse any typos. I had to do some major rework throughout the many revisions of this chapter. I am glad for the next chapter, as we will meet Bofur and family at last! :) 
> 
> Also major thank you to Elleth for helping me iron out some of the messier aspects of this chapter! :{D


	3. The Backbone of Erebor

Kíli would be lying to himself if he said he went down to meet Bofur without any trepidation. The disappointments in seeing many of his friends turn their backs had made Kíli fear the worst. The silence from Bofur and his family since the funeral could mean anything, but Kíli wasn’t convinced it could be anything but the worst. Still, he knew he needed to inform Bofur about the crown needing to be made for Nrar. 

He decided to meet with Bofur the first thing in the morning, at daybreak when the workers would be filing to the mines. He would make the journey alone, as in his mind Kíli saw this as a friend meeting old friends (or so he hoped.) Kíli chose to wear his lightest robes. From the highest reaches of the mountain the temperate was still warm, and Kíli could only imagine how hot it felt down by the forge. 

The mines were even more vast than Kíli originally thought. He never had a chance to study its full scale before; and seeing how wide it extended, the prospect of finding the owner of the mines and gemcutters suddenly seemed impossible. Kíli asked for the owner and was shown to a golden hallway that led to some of the most luxurious personal offices he had ever seen, untouched by Smaug. 

Off in the distance he could hear Bofur’s laughter, and his heart lightened at the familiar sound. His pace quickened towards the source and came upon the largest office. 

There were several dwarves standing inside, including a woman with greying hair and a nose that reminded Kíli of Nori. She was dressed with the finest jewels in her hair, beard, and coat. On the large desk sat Bofur, swinging back and forth casually as he cracked jokes that sent his team into fits of laughter; Bombur stood nearby, a tray of breakfast held in his hands. Kíli knew Bombur’s children had taken over his restaurant business, but he wondered why Bombur himself wanted to still work when he owned a great fortune. 

It was almost odd to see Bofur without the clothes Kíli had grown used to seeing him wear during the quest. He knew Bofur’s family were poorer than the rest, and to see Bofur so well dressed, in a coat and jewelry fit only for one as rich and powerful as him, took him by surprise. Bofur had put on a few extra pounds since the last time Kíli saw him, and he thought the look suited him. Bombur was only slightly underdressed compared to his brother, but only because of the long apron he wore, indicating that he himself had cooked the meal. 

Bombur was the first to notice Kíli, and he gave a start. “Kíli!” 

Some of the dwarves cast Bombur alarmed looks as though he had said something rude. But Bofur gave a great cry of delight and jumped to his feet. 

“Good morning, laddie!” he called out before catching himself. “Pardon - my king.” 

“Please, Kíli is just fine!” Kíli said, bringing his gaze to the rest to indicate that his words were directed at them as well. 

The other dwarves relaxed, understanding the relationship the king had with the two dwarves. Bombur offered Kíli breakfast, and Kíli thanked him. He set out early and had not eaten yet, and he did not anticipate he would find time to eat. Bofur and Bombur both did not seem content to have him leave any time soon, which was promising sign for their meeting. 

“Kíli, then! Welcome!” Bofur said. Kíli embraced them both, fighting back tears at the comfort of arms and scents so familiar (but more clean than the last time he embraced them months ago.) 

Bofur introduced Kíli to each of the other dwarves, each who greeted him warmly and enthusiastically. The dwarf with greying hair was named Glori, the mother of Dori, Nori, and Ori. Bofur hired her as his chief assistant of the gemcutters, for she had the most experience in this field. She stood proud, her head held high and in her eyes were a hint of vanity. Not a single strand of hair was out of place. 

“So that is what is where Dori got it from,” Kíli thought as he shook Glori’s hand. She regarded him with a deep respect that he had not seen in Dori before. He noticed the other dwarves were all regarding him with the same look as they greeted him, and even more surprising, was how genuine all their smiles and greetings were. This was a completely different reception to what Kíli was used to in the floors above. 

“All right, laddies and lasses,” Bofur said brightly, “We’ve gone over everything we needed to talk about this morning. We will join again in the next morrow. Be sure to bring your reports with you! Bombur will have more of that delicious jam, or I own each of you a feast!” Laughing, the other dwarves chattered as they made their way out of the office. When they were out of earshot, Bombur and Bofur clambered closer to Kíli. 

“You look wonderful, Kíli!” Bofur said, grinning widely as he studied him. “A true king!” 

“And what of your two? I almost did not recognize you!” Kíli said.

“We are still the same mutts as before,” Bofur laughed. 

“This is impressive, what you’ve done here.” 

“I’m only picking up where the last head had left off,” Bofur said. “Tell us! How has things been with you?” 

“Not too good,” Kíli said. “Haven’t you heard?” 

Bofur and Bombur exchanged looks. “Heard what?” 

Kíli could not believe them. “About my terrible rule.” 

“Oh no! We heard nothing of that,” Bofur said. 

“I do not believe you!” 

But Bofur and Bombur both were studying him in confusion. Kíli took a deep breath. “You really heard nothing? I haven’t been doing my job, I’ve been distracted by…by what’s happened…” 

“Well, there are no complaints from us,” Bofur said with a shrug. 

“We are all doing well here,” Bombur said. “We never knew anyone was upset.”

“This kingdom is still young,” Bofur added. “Of course it will be hard and slow to pick up at first! But we are all happy here!” 

Kíli gave a feeble laugh. “You are either lying or truly content to have an incompetent king.” 

“We never lie!” Bombur said, shocked and hurt. 

“Oi, don’t you say anything about our king!” Bofur cried out at the same time. 

Kíli flinched. He expected the brothers would turn against him, but the look they gave Kíli were not full of any rue. Kíli saw only kindness, and he felt bad for doubting his friends. Bofur sensed the turmoil inside Kíli, and he motion for him to sit down at the desk. 

“You are doing well,” Bofur said simply. “Here, eat.” 

He pushed the tray closer to Kíli. Bofur and Bombur sat around him, and as Kíli ate silently Bofur lit his pipe and Bombur went through a black leather notebook. 

“This is delicious,” Kíli said, pulling apart a pastry and watching the steam drifting up. “You still have your restaurant, Bombur?” 

“Mine and Minyu’s,” Bombur said. “The family restaurant, now in the Blue Mountains and here.” 

“We’ve been thinking of Maru taking over the branch in the Blue Mountain,” Bofur said, grinning up at his brother. “Wherever the dwarves go, they will taste Bombur and Minyu’s delicious cooking!” 

“Why do you still work?” Kíli asked. “You are two of the richest dwarves, and you can just live in luxury for the rest of your lives!” 

“What’s a dwarf without work?” Bofur said, blowing a puff of smoke. “I’ve been in the mines since my twenties! This is my life. To live without work, I will writhe and die in a few days time!” He reached for his cup and sipped. “But this is different. I never was the one that others answer to.” 

“And how is that going?” 

“Difficult at first, but I’m learning every day,” he said, and Kíli saw sadness in his smile. “It was my father’s dream, Mahal rest his soul, to eventually be head of the mining business. He wanted a stable future for Bombur and me. It’s why we’ve come, to give Bombur’s kids the chance we didn’t have.” 

“And you’re that now,” Kíli said. “You’ve become your father.” 

“And I’ve expanded.” Bofur winked and laughed. “The mines, the forges, the gemcutters - everything that needs minerals, basically.” 

“You have a monopoly going,” Kíli laughed. “The backbone of Erebor.” But he could not help but also feel impressed. Bofur’s actions were intelligent. He had full control of the biggest vocations among the dwarves, from every step of the way from the mines to the making of jewels and other trinkets. He had no need for making business with other dwarves, save for iron imported from the Iron Hills. But Bofur was self-sufficient, and ensured he would have no rivals. But the thought also made Kíli more ashamed of his own failings. Even with guidance he could not stand on his feet. 

“Where is Bifur?” Kíli asked. 

“Opening up his toy shop right now, I’d imagine,” Bofur said. “He usually sleeps a little longer than us since his shop opens later.” 

“He too is still working?” 

“What else is there to do in life?” Bombur said as Bofur rose to his feet. 

“And don’t tell me, you’ve also been involved in that,” Kíli said. Bofur simply grinned and raised up his pipe as it to salute. 

“Come! I think you will love it!” he said and he snuffed out his pipe. With each dwarf on either side of Kíli, they led him out the door. 

They led him the farthest Kíli had ever ventured down the mines. They headed north, through passageways and streets much unlike anything Kíli had ever walked past in both the Blue Mountain and Erebor. Above them the high roofs shone from the light of the gold embedded in the stone, a sight which from afar gave the illusion that they were walking above ground, under the warm rays of the sun. They went up broad stone steps spiraling upwards, past magnificent double doors that were homes for the commoner dwarves. Some bore the tell-tale signs of having already been acclaimed and lived in, while others still appeared unoccupied but promising to be a cozy home once polished. 

At last they came to a clearing. Shops lay sporadically down the street, but it was easy to spot which one belonged to Bifur. A display of beautifully crafted toys stood by the entrance. Kíli recognized them as being the usual dolls that Bofur and Bifur made throughout their travels to gather more money for the company. 

He stepped inside and was greeted by a display of large dolls. Kíli felt the ground disappear beneath him. Seeing the image of Fíli before him made him realize just how much he missed the sight of his brother around. The skeleton of the dolls were made of wood, and over that layer dressed in thick fabric. The faces were carefully sculptured around the wooden frame to reflect the dwarf they represented. The resemblance was uncanny. The Fíli doll was dressed in armor, but they were exaggerated to give him a more commanding air. 

“A knightly prince,” Kíli thought. “A rightful king.” 

Next to the Fíli dolls were Thorin dolls, made to look splendid as the true King under the Mountain. The glower and piercing gaze was so well captured that Kíli suddenly realized how much he was going to miss seeing it. He counted the days and noted it’s been a little more than two months since he last saw his brother and uncle. There had been periods before where he would not see them for months on end. But that was because Thorin had taken Fíli for training. They would not be coming back; there would be no day for Kíli to anticipate when he would see them return from their journey. The thought of it ached him. 

“I did not realize how much I miss seeing them,” Kíli said to Bofur and Bombur, who were exchanging looks, perhaps feeling guilty for leading him straight here. 

Bofur jumped for a chance to distract. “We are also working on one based on our beloved king. Each doll comes with a storybook about their heroic deeds. They are already selling with the families of Lake-town. All children will grow up knowing about your family!” 

“Ai, but there is nothing heroic about me,” Kíli muttered under his breath. His eyes could not part from Fíli, his own brother. His heart threatened to shatter and his eyes teemed with tears; Kíli wiped them away quickly in shame. But Bofur must have seen them, because he swooped down and picked up a Fíli and Thorin doll each.

“Here, laddie, this one is from us to you, as a gift,” Bofur said. He motioned to Bombur to get paper to wrap the dolls in. 

“I cannot accept this!” Kíli said, though he was touched. Bofur shook his head. 

“Dwarves cling to their siblings,” Bofur said. “It’s the least I could do to reunite you with your family.” 

Kíli nodded his understanding. He accepted the two dolls to study them closer. “In the past, the siblings of a deceased dwarf would end their lives just to be with them.” 

“But that was banned long ago,” Bofur cut in sharply. “And for good reason. Thorin and Fíli would not want you to forfeit your life for them. Your second chance is a gift. Not everyone had a potion like that in their pockets. Had I one, I would have given it all to Bombur and Bifur without a second thought.” He grinned, though tears glistened in his eyes. “And do you not also have a sister? You don’t want to see her die just to follow you and Fíli, do you’?” 

Kíli gripped the dolls closer towards himself. “No, of course not!” The very thought, of Míli with her impish grin and lofty spirit, ending her life… His heart ached at the thought of her. “But she is so far away right now.” 

Bofur patted his shoulder in sympathy. “It is the winter. Perhaps they are waiting for a better time to leave the Blue Mountain. She will be here by the summer.” 

“But some have already made the journey here,” Kíli wanted to say, but that was when Bombur showed up with the wrapping paper and bag, and behind him was Bifur. Bofur relieved Kíli of the dolls so he could greet his friend. Bifur wasted no time in embracing Kíli into a tight hug, his large hands giving Kíli’s shoulder a squeeze. Kíli didn’t realize how much he needed the contact. Though he never spoke it aloud, there had been times when he wished Bifur was his father; the very thought of family made him choke back a sob. 

“How are you, lad?” Bifur asked, but there was little need to explain. The signs were all over Kíli, and Bifur saw them. He gave him a pat on his arm before leading him on a tour of the shop. 

Large was Bifur’s toyshop yet empty with there not being many toys yet, though Kíli was certain in the near future it would be teeming with more toys. Kíli did not think Bifur would have any trouble acquiring costumers from the neighboring realms. The toys were each so wonderfully detailed that Kíli soon forgot his sorrow. In each display he stopped to marvel how Bifur could have created such dolls with still very little resources. There was the eagle that Bifur had been working on much throughout their journey as well as bears and large spiders with devilish grins, and puzzle boxes and other games to intrigue the mind, and soft plush toys with kind faces, and dolls with monstrous faces that made Kíli wonder where Bifur had found the inspiration for them. There were large papery containers shaped like Smaug, where the child could strike with a toy bow and arrow. If they strike a precise spot the dragon would burst open, revealing smaller toys for the child. 

“That is clever,” Kíli said, pointing to the papery Smaug. 

“It’s based on a tradition from the Stonefoots during the Mannish New Year,” Bifur said. “I just borrowed the idea.” 

“It’s a wonderful idea nonetheless. Are all these others your designs?” 

“Some are, and some are collaborations with Bofur,” Bifur said. “We’ve had a few ideas submitted, which we’d like to take a closer look at and possibly hire a few other toymakers. But for now we are the only ones.” 

Kíli laughed. “Your family is truly operating a monopoly in my kingdom. What is next, the architectural business?” 

“Bombur’s already doing that with Ori.” 

“You must be kidding me!” 

A corner of Bifur’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Bombur’s an engineering genius. Never had much chance to use it in the Blue Mountain. He and Ori get along famously, and Ori came to Bombur with need for help recently.” 

“Probably after I angered the other dwarf from the Iron Hills,” Kíli thought to himself. “I’m sure Bombur is thrilled.” 

“His mind’s been on his family’s business, but he jumped to the project once he saw the chance,” Bifur said. “Minyu and the kids will take over, but Bombur will still be around, I’m certain.” 

“This family is truly the backbone of Erebor,” Kíli thought with a small smile. He could not imagine any bunch of dwarves more worthy of such honor, though they were not of Durin’s folk. 

Bofur and Bombur caught up with them. Upon noticing that Bofur was still carrying his bag, Kíli asked for it, not wanting Bofur to burden himself. He thanked them again. 

“Do you get much business here?” Kíli asked. 

“Very little,” Bifur confessed. “But only because there are so few children around. When more come we expect more to pour in. If the day is nice, we venture out to Lake-town to see what we can sell. Some of the elves also buy from us, though I do not know why. I don’t recall seeing any children.” 

“We’re already selling more than we thought we would at this stage,” Bofur said. “Everyone loves the idea of killing our friend Smaug over there. But in our little shop here it’s mostly been adults coming in.” 

“Adults?” 

“Oh yes! Adults love coming here, of course!” 

A wicked grin spread on Bofur’s face, and he glanced at his brother and cousin as similar looks appeared on their faces. Kíli raised an eyebrow, but no one said anything for several moments in silence. 

“Should we?” Bombur said. 

“Why not?” Bofur laughed. “It isn’t proper keeping things hidden from our king. And Kíli will probably enjoy it.” 

“Hiding what?” Kíli asked. 

Bofur hid a snicker as Bifur motioned for Kíli to follow. They led him towards the back of the shop towards Bifur’s workshop. Adjacent to that were long curtains, and Kíli was led through there into a smaller room. Kíli’s eyes widened. 

Around the wall were hung numerous small wooden ornaments dressed facetiously, and the phallic shapes of the objects’ designs were not lost on Kíli. 

“This is different,” he said after a moment, and the three dwarves roared with laughter. 

“It’s a side project,” Bifur explained. “We’re thinking of moving them to another shop unless if interest in them dwindles.” 

“The idea came to us from Bombur,” Bofur said. “Minyu is with child - again! It’s like they could not wait the moment they laid eyes on each other once more!” 

Kíli would have expected Bombur to stare at his brother in horror, but the dwarf simply drew into himself. Even the bald patch on his head was red. 

“The ornaments are to send a blessing to the new families of Erebor,” Bifur added. “A child already on the way - we saw it as a good sign and wanted to pass that message along in a light-hearted manner.” 

“So do the dwarves hang this over their home or something?” 

“That’s the general idea,” Bombur said. 

Kíli shook his head in disbelief as he studied the charms. “And they are popular?” 

“Oh yes! Among the top-selling items right now,” Bofur said, “from our adult costumers only of course. Everyone finds them charming!” 

“Then I shall put a ban on them immediately,” Kíli said, and laughter filled the room again.

* * *

Bifur urged Kíli to remain with them for lunch, and Kíli could not find it in himself to turn the offer down. The three were willing to take the entire day off just to sit with him, and though selfish he felt for agreeing to it, Kíli could not help himself. Their presence was much needed, for their joking and laughter kept the dark thoughts and heaviness in Kíli’s heart away, at least in the meantime. 

He also had not broached the question of the crown yet. The thought of it rested in his mind the entire time they ate, but he could not find the heart to interrupt the multitude of stories they shared with him about the new kingdom. He finally had his chance after they ate. 

“A crown?” Bofur said. “I will tell Glori about that right away. We’ll fix you one by the end of this week!” 

“It’s not for me,” Kíli said quickly. At their confused looks, Kíli told them about his conversation with Dain and his request for a regent. The longer he spoke, the tenser the atmosphere became. Dead silence followed after he was done, and his heart pounded in fear of what grand mistake he may have done now. 

“I will not take any other as my king!” Bifur was the first to speak. 

“But you are Durin’s heir,” Bombur said sadly. 

“I cannot rule this mountain,” Kíli said. “You may be happy where you are, but up there I’ve been scolded countless times! I cannot focus on what everyone wants. Every word escapes me, and Balin has had to explain to me, over and over, but I still don’t understand what I am doing!”

“It surely can’t be that bad?” Bofur said, studying him. Kíli felt himself cracking underneath Bofur’s gaze. Though Bofur meant well, Kíli had not expected those words. Bofur was always the first to understand, to empathize. “You’re stronger than that.” 

“I may seem fine to you, but I haven’t been fine!” Kíli shocked himself with how loud his voice suddenly was, echoing in his ears with his hammering heart, but he could not stop himself. “I’m sick! Deathly sick! There are days when I cannot get out of bed, and nothing in my mind works right!” 

The three dwarves exchanged looks. 

“You are grieving,” Bofur said. “You just need time to heal, that is all!”

“I can’t heal!” Kíli shot back, and the tears burst out of him. He had hoped they would understand somehow. Embarrassed by his outburst, he covered his face in his hands as his body shook. He felt hands on his shoulders. “You do not understand how horrible this illness is! It’s in my heart and head. It’s lead in my limbs and a mountain-wight feasting on my soul! It sours every morsel I put in my mouth and plants nightmares in my dreams! And I wish for death, for I do not see any friend beside me. I feel worthless; nothing has meaning to me. Everything color is drained, sucked dry. I only see darkness and threats! How I wish I can die! You do not know what feeling that is like!” 

“We _do_ know.” It was Bofur who spoke softly. Kíli felt him lean closer. “We do know. Bombur and Bifur and I all know. We walked down that path before, but we’ve come out of it. It is a terrible illness, we agree. None of us would ever want to go through it again. What sort of disease makes one wish for death? It goes against everything in nature. Both mind and body are selfish, Kíli. It worries about preserving itself. It must live. Our body hungers when we need food to stay alive. Our mind gives us the strength to run from danger - it’s all there. All your life you function in ways to ensure that you live to see the next day. 

“That is why your illness is so terrible. Your mind is not doing what it needs to do. It has turned against itself - you’ve turned against yourself, Kíli. But the mind is being foolish. Can't you see that? You really don't want to die. We don’t want you to die, either. We’re very happy you’re with us! You have plenty of friends! And you are not worthless. You need to convince yourself that. Fight your own mind!” 

“But how?” Kíli wept. 

“Klamath weed,” Bifur piped up. 

“Pardon?” Kíli turned to Bifur, uncertain if he heard correctly. 

“Klamath weed,” Bifur repeated. “Taken as a tincture. It’ll help your sorrow.” 

“How would you know?” Kíli asked and realized his mistake with the significant looks they all gave him. 

“At one point we all - Bifur, Bombur, and I - needed to take it.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Bifur shook his head as Bofur patted Kíli on the shoulder. 

“It is fine, laddie,” Bofur said softly, offering him a warm smile. 

“I did not know there was something for this illness,” Kíli said. “Dain didn’t say anything about it when we talked about my condition.” 

“He probably didn’t know,” Bombur said, who was fighting back his own tears as he watched Kíli, memories of darker periods flashing in his mind. “Didn’t have need for it.” 

Kíli nodded and thanked Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur for their help. He made a mental note to himself to go to the apothecary next. 

They turned their talk to other matters, though Kíli sensed it was all a means to take his mind off his illness. How long they spent together, Kíli lost track of the time. Bofur eventually agreed to work on making the crown, but Kíli sensed the hesitation. Before Kíli finally left, each of his friends embraced him. They would not accept his apologies for his outburst, not seeing that he needed to. He was fighting an illness, and they all understood his plight. 

It took a while for Kíli to find a familiar street in the kingdom. Erebor was far larger than he ever thought it to be, but he hadn’t had enough time to get to know the location of every street. He made his way to the apothecary. It was here that he was taken to after waking in the dungeon, so he knew the way. He did not expect Óin to get much work done, and indeed the place still look the same, rocks cracked around the doors and fallen debris still not picked up. The only hint that any change had taken place was a sign indicating that behind the next door was the medical school. 

Klamath weed wasn’t in stock when Kíli checked in with Óin’s apprentice. 

“We don’t have much herbs in stock yet,” said the apprentice. “We’re still waiting on a few more trades getting approval, my king.” Kíli felt guilty at that, but he placed an order for klamath weed, making a note to get the trade approved as soon as he could, and continued towards his private chambers. The prospect of having a drug that could possibly cure him made him more at ease. He had spent so much time with Bofur and his family that Kíli anticipated scolding for abandoning his throne without a word. A part of him was hurt that no one made to search for him upon noticing his absence. 

As he reached his bedchamber, a young dwarf with a yellow wool-like hair and beard approached him. 

“King Kíli?” he bowed. “Oglûk, at your service! Lord Nrar was waiting for you.” 

“Was he?” Kíli asked, surprised. Had that much time passed, he wondered. 

Oglûk looked confused but pressed on merrily. “He’s at the private dining room. He said he was expecting you.” 

Kíli thanked Oglûk and made for the dining room instead. He had no appetite left in him after his crying spell, but he knew this was important. As he was giving up his throne to Nrar, Kíli had to grow to trust the dwarf enough to know his inner name. The dwarf still intimidated him, but Kíli kept passing it off as nerves. He had to get used to the elf. If Dain trusted Nrar, then Kíli should as well. 

At the door Kíli realized he still had the bag Bofur gave him, but he decided against going back. He would keep the bag with him, wanting to have Fíli near him for support. 

“You have something with you,” Nrar said when Kíli entered, his voice pleasant and smooth. 

“A gift from some friends,” Kíli explained as he settled himself next to Nrar at the dining table. 

“The meal was getting cold while I waited for you.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Nrar nodded but said no more. He turned to his meal without another glance at Kíli as though he had suddenly disappeared from the room. 

Kíli pushed himself to eat, if even a small bite. He tried initiating a conversation with Nrar, who mostly ignored him. When he asked about his childhood, Nrar gave him an odd look. 

“Did Dain not tell you the evening before?” he said. There was no anger in his voice, but Kíli still cringed. 

“I must not have been paying attention,” he said. But he could have sworn Dain had said nothing save for Nrar’s heritage. In the silence that followed Kíli wondered if Nrar hated him, but the dwarf surprised Kíli with a sudden smile and a few questions about his own life which in turn got Nrar speaking, his voice rather calming in the still room. Kíli felt silly for even thinking the dwarf was intimidating. Relaxed, he went on about his life, though he did not check to see if Nrar was listening or not. 

After some time, Kíli grew bored with forcing himself another bite. He pulled out the Fíli doll to examine closer, amazed once more at how Bifur and Bofur had done a magnificent job in capturing the dwarf’s likeliness. He traced a finger over the doll’s skin, feeling only fabric. It was not like his brother at all, not warm and teasing and noble in his demeanor, but Kíli still loved it. 

“They gifted you with a _doll_?” 

Kíli smiled up at Nrar. “There’s a few of them being made. It makes me glad I can see my brother again in some way.” 

Nrar’s smile dripped with sweetness. “Words of a child! It’s a precious thing to hear.” 

Kíli wanted to argue that he was not a child, but instead he held the doll closer to himself. Nrar noticed this, and he gave the softest of sounds. 

“Do you not think that is improper behavior of a king?” he asked kindly. “It could reflect poorly on you, worse than already the situation you’re in.” 

“It makes me happy,” Kíli said, shrugging. But the words had hit a cord. 

“Mmm, so you are still a child,” Nrar said simply. “There is no wonder why Fíli saved you then, at the cost of his own life. Protect the young and vulnerable. That is the dwarf code. Very noble act of the throne’s heir. Pity he had to die for it.” 

The words twisted in Kíli’s gut. He wasn’t sure if Nrar meant it. He must not have, for there was no accusation in his voice, but the words had brought a sickening thought into Kíli’s head. 

“I am responsible for Fíli’s death,” he realized. Bile rose in his throat. “Fíli died because I was too weak and needed protection. He could have saved Thorin had he not been trying to save me.” He squeezed the doll, and suddenly seeing the doll as though for the first time, Kíli grew disgusted with himself. He was infantile, clinging to toys and weeping his eyes out. Bofur must have sensed it, his unnaturalness, and had thought to shut him up the same way anyone would a crying child: give them a toy. 

The room was suddenly too cold. His heart screamed for the comfort of his mother and sister, but suddenly they too felt dead to him. He was alone, stuck in this room with no family, no one to support him. 

“Is something the matter?” Nrar asked. 

Kíli shook his head and excused himself. He grabbed his bag and left the room. Whatever dim happiness that had been there since the morning shattered under this realization. He bolted himself into his room and wept loudly.

* * *

Nrar sipped his ale, unable to hide the smirk. The dwarf king was easy to manipulate, far simpler than he initially imagined. Kíli was in such a weakened state that molding his brain just the way Nrar wanted to would be the easiest part of his scheme. 

The seeds had been planted well before this moment. His whispered bitter words about the king spread through the other dwarves. And it was he after all who began mixing the runes of Kíli’s name in hopes of dragging his name in the mud. It worked, for many of the dwarves were seeing him as an abomination of a ruler, an infantile king. He was uncertain if all the dwarves had fallen into this belief. His work was constructed mostly in the Iron Hills, with the dwarves who traveled to Erebor and saw Kíli for themselves. He did not know of the dwarves coming from the Blue Mountain, but in time their patience with the king would run out. There would be no pity for Kíli. 

But the rumors certainly did not affect Dain Ironfoot, who appeared to have a sort of affection for the king as though Kíli were his own son. That was to be expected, for Dain’s own son was but two years younger than Kíli. But it did not matter. Dain himself would not be able to stop an entire nation turning against Kíli. 

Tonight more seeds were planted, this time in Kíli’s own mind. That should stop him from getting in Nrar’s way. 

Kíli was no dwarf. Dwarves were made of stone, of hardy stuff. This one was just specks of dust, scattering from the meekest of winds. 

“Dust you are, and to dust you shall return,” Nrar thought, grinning, and sipped more from his drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments and feedback! :) This chapter got too long, so it's been split. The next part becomes much darker, but I figured on a day like this some happy moments would be cherished. 
> 
> Also want to thank again Jon and Elleth for all their help with this story! 
> 
> Some notes:   
> Bombur as an architect is a recent idea after seeing a new feature about the Bifur-Bofur-Bombur family. Although this is being debated, it is believed that the piñata (the papery Smaug in this case) originated in China as part of a tradition during the New Year. :) ([more information](http://ellerbruch.nmu.edu/classes/cs255f03/cs255students/trawills/P5/pinatahistory.html)) The dwarven phallic charms were inspired by the fascinum, although they are used for a different purpose here.


	4. The Bonding of the Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter: non-con/rape.

Kíli had hoped the wedding would take place within the week, but it was not set until the marked beginning of spring. Snow had melted from the tip of the mountain and the sun was brighter on their faces when they stepped out. The signs of an early spring was around them, but the wedding would not take place until Nrar had been fully assimilated into the role. 

Many a day was spent with Kíli touring Nrar around the kingdom, talking with the dwarves and taking note on what Nrar would have to tend to as acting king. They were joined by many who joined in helping Nrar. Bombur and Ori showed Nrar the areas that still needed to be rebuilt. The two dwarves had worked nonstop on designing new roads, homes, and shops in the areas where Smaug had caused the most damage. Nrar regarded them the same way he did with every dwarf who was not Kíli: with sweet words and smiles dripping with honey. 

Kíli caught Bombur rolling his eyes whenever Nrar wasn’t looking; and Ori kept throwing Kíli sad and confused glances. He was certain Bombur will tell Ori everything in due time, but he gave his friend a comforting smile and gestured a quick message in iglishmêk to say that it had nothing to do with Dori. 

Dain did not hold back on his offer. With a month and half till the rule was passed over to Nrar, Dain helped Kíli go through as much of the work as possible. Kíli went through the trades first in hopes of getting closer to acquiring klamath weed. Dain explained to him the matters of trade in a simple manner that eased Kíli enough to feel content with going through some of the work alone. 

He wished whatever confidence he had built with Dain could spill to other areas. No matter how much time he spent with Nrar, Kíli still struggled with trusting him. Initially he could not fathom how others loved him, but the weeks leading to the wedding showed him that the problem was not Nrar. It was Kíli himself all along. When Nrar was with others a transformation took over the dwarf. He regularly joked around, and others would laugh and look up to him with deep admiration. Nrar spoke with Dain with such pleasantness, and Kíli wished he was given the same treatment. But he knew he was being unreasonable. Dain was a great leader; Kíli was nothing compared to him, not worthy of respect from those higher than him. And Nrar let that be known; he regarded Kíli with sad disappointment every time they were alone together. 

Among discussions of tasks Nrar would have to overtake were also arrangements on where he will be residing. It was to be in the bedchambers near Balin, they had decided. Kíli could not part with this room, the place he spent all of his time during the evenings; Kíli’s heart burned with the dwarven possessiveness more about this room than the Arkenstone. He would still be considered king even with a regent and acting king, but there was another reason why Kíli remained in this room. His direct ancestors slept here. King Thror and Queen Elaryan had made this room theirs. The room was still filled with the trinkets of his great grandparents, and many nights were spent with Kíli rummaging through the drawers and cabinets. It was the closest Kíli could feel to his family. 

The treasures interested him little; the memories and stories were more what he hunted for. He imagined the Fíli and Thorin dolls, who were displayed atop the drawers, were really his kin. He could almost hear Fíli and Míli asking questions about the various trinkets, and Thorin recounting to them the many tales of their household. 

His heart leapt with delight upon seeing a book of the royal family’s genealogy. The names of the female relatives, usually left out of any public records where other races could see them, were recorded freely in the personal records. Though even here no inner names were written, Kíli still discovered so much. There was Kíli the first, son of his great grandaunt, and this Kíli also had a brother named Fíli. There was little information on what had happened to this branch after them, and Kíli soon gave up on finding out more about the other Kíli. In another part of the family tree Kíli thought he found the link between himself and Glori and her sons. 

In the drawers were dozens of jewelry that were abandoned during the attack. A little bit of washing was needed to bring back the shine of the gold. He felt his heart ache as though each piece was an old friend. He wondered the story about each one: who had forged it, who wore it and when they received it. Was it a gift or something they had forged themselves. The Thorin in his head filled him with long vibrant tales of each piece, his eyes gleaming with tears as his low voice filled the bedroom with stories of their kin. 

A chip at a corner of a jewel piece, part of a bracelet tucked at the bottom of a jewelry box - a sign of something prized, something older than the rest and possibly something bequeathed and treasured above all else. Kíli had many stories for that. 

A small doll was lodged deep in the last drawer. Kíli could not place an owner to the doll, or reasons why it was kept in the master room. He wondered if it was Thorin’s, Frerin’s, or possibly even Thráin’s. It could be his mother’s, who was but ten years old at the time of the attack. But why keep this doll here? He guessed King Thror and Queen Elaryan kept it as a souvenir of their loved one as she grew out of the doll, or his mother had stuffed the doll there while being mischievous around the dwarven kingdom. 

But the doll showed signs of having been played with for many, many years. It wasn’t only his mother’s. 

A sudden mad thought gripped him. Kíli never had an urge to mark something as his such as in this moment. There was no way to prove this. He brought the doll close to his lips and whispered three times fast his inner name, then three times backwards, and three times forward again. Warmth grew deep in his core, and a smile spread over Kíli’s face. A bond he had not felt before to his kin swam inside. He had a feeling that he could retrieve the inner names of his old kin, if he ever had a need to. He was right in feeling that the inner names of his ancestors were contained in this one well-loved doll. 

But the smile disappeared soon enough. He had just proven how infantile he was, seeking to mark an old doll rather than one of the other trinkets. He guiltily looked up at the Thorin and Fíli dolls, the only trinkets he had on display. 

The throne was truly not deserving of him, Kíli thought bitterly.

* * *

Bofur came to Kíli with the crown for Nrar the evening before the wedding. Nrar was out in a meeting with Dain and Balin, but Kíli stayed behind. He did not think his presence would make any difference. Balin warmed up to Nrar faster than Kíli thought he would, but the elderly dwarf still regarded Kíli with the saddest eyes. The fact that there was no accusation in Balin was a small comfort. 

The crown was lesser elegant than the one he wore, but it still stole his breath upon seeing it. 

“It is beautiful,” Kíli said. He turned the crown in his hands, studying the work. It displayed the marks of Erebor, but there were also tributes to the other dwarven clans as Nrar was a descendent from all seven houses. “Thank you, Bofur.” 

“It was made with reluctance by my team,” Bofur said. “Glori didn’t want to use her best gems for the crown. Nrar’s words did nothing to enchant her. Told me she’s had her fair share of sweet-talkers in her life.” He grinned. “It would have been a different story if she thought the crown was for you.” 

“Glori? She barely knows me!” 

“She is Ori’s mother, and Ori loves you,” Bofur said. “As do we all, even if some of us are being a bit foolish at the moment.” 

Kíli nodded. A nervous silence followed for several moments. Bofur’s lips quivered as he fought to keep his lips sealed, but the need to speak finally won over. “Do you really want to go with this?” 

“I feel this is the best for me and the entire kingdom,” Kíli said. 

“Has the klamath weed arrived?”

“Not yet. Do you think if I were on it I would not need Nrar?” 

Bofur considered his question seriously. “It may take time, and time hasn’t been good with you.” 

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Kíli said. “Everyone wants this kingdom to run smoothy. I cannot offer them that, not now at least. And they cannot and should not have to wait. Everyone already is doing so much…” He made to turn, but Bofur gripped his arm. 

“Please make certain you keep one hand on the throne,” Bofur said. “We cannot lose you as king. You’re important to us!” 

The genuine concern in Bofur’s voice and eyes silenced Kíli’s dismissal. “Will you be attending?” 

Bofur smiled. “Of course, laddie. All of your friends will be there. Bifur and Bombur and Glori and Ori…good luck, laddie.” 

Kíli thanked him and returned to his room, the crown weighing heavily in his hands.

* * *

The time for the wedding had come, and Kíli found himself sitting looking at himself in the mirror once more as dwarves added the finishing touches on the ceremonial robes. Although the union would be purely political, it would be treated as any other marriage. Marriage was marked with utmost respect, trust, and confidentiality between the two dwarves; but Kíli still did not feel any trust for Nrar. The dwarf had regarded him the same way as he had done on the first day without any change in the past few months. 

Balin helped dress Kíli in fine gold and beard ornaments, reminding Kíli of their previous encounter like this. The heaviness pulling down his beard and hair was most unwelcome, but these ornaments were part of the tradition and had to remain. 

Balin’s hands trembled as he worked with the same affection as before, and Kíli felt worse by the minute as he caught tears in the other’s eyes. 

“Erebor is going in good hands,” Kíli said, spinning around to hug Balin. “It won’t be gone from us, I promise you that. Nrar has many friends who will help Erebor.” 

But Balin just shook his head. “I do hope so, laddie. Nrar is a great dwarf, but the throne is rightfully yours. I do hope this ends well…” 

“It will,” Kíli said, but he himself wasn’t assured though he could not explain why. Nrar did not have a high opinion of him, but Kíli could hardly fault him. His behavior spoke of infantility and weakness. It was a shame to let him live, even. Had Fíli known both he and Thorin were going to die… 

Kíli shook the thoughts out of his head. He needed to focus on the ceremony. When they were done Balin led him through a corridor once more. The audience this time was larger although none from Lake-town and Mirkwood were present. Being secretive of their customs, the dwarves would not have any other present; their neighbors will know in time of the change. 

There were dwarves from the Iron Hills, many more who joined since Dain’s company arrived to watch the event. Some were those who migrated from the Blue Mountains, although Kíli saw no sign of Dís, Míli, or Fann. There may have been others from the other four clans, but Kíli did not stop to study the attendants carefully. 

While the wedding celebration was a public event, the actual bonding took place privately. Like with all other events, there were rooms for other dwarves couples who married and one just for the royal line. The room was tiny and sparkled with gold from the walls. Kíli named Balin to be his wedding escort and witness in place of his father and mother, and Nrar named Dain as his. Before them on the black marble desk was a large tome in which each wrote their name. They were read the rites and each declared their intent for the marriage. 

Then Dain handed Nrar a block of black stone. Kíli’s heart hammered at the sight of it, knowing what would soon come. The stone was small enough to fit in the hand, and around the corners were encrusted with drusy quartz. Kíli followed him to the wall, where a recess was made in the same size as the block. 

Nrar raised the block to his lips. Kíli leaned forward, but he could not catch Nrar’s inner name. It was meant to be spoken just loud enough for the married couple to hear, but it seemed Nrar’s voice was too low for Kíli to pick up. Perplexed, Kíli wanted to nudge him to speak louder when Nrar silently handed the block to him. Kíli knew he could not say anything as part of tradition. He brought the block to his lips, and felt an odd sickening feeling as Nrar leaned extremely close to him. His heart froze and he whispered extremely fast and quietly, his lips barely moving, before stepping back and handing the block to Balin. He looked about himself and realized that none noticed Nrar’s behavior. 

Balin placed the block into the recess just as Dain came over with the molten gold. He sealed the block into place. Kíli took a deep breath. 

“Congratulations, laddie,” Balin whispered. Dain nodded and congratulated them both. “May this bond bring many fortunes for you both.” 

Kíli thanked them with a nod. He could barely speak from the sudden thick lump in his throat. He wanted to ask Balin if what had just happened was all right, if he and Nrar were still considered wed. He did not hear Nrar’s inner name, and he was sure Nrar did not hear him. But it was would be impossible to get a private moment with his cousin, and any gesturing using iglishmêk would easily be seen by the other two in a room so small. 

He could only follow them out of the small room into the main throne room, where they were met with applause. Balin gave Kíli the crown Bofur and Glori had made, and Kíli repeated the same words Balin had spoken, declaring Nrar as regent, before placing the crown atop his head. 

More applause followed, and Kíli breathed a sigh of relief as the heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders, whether the bonding of the names was successful or not. As the acting king, Nrar spoke to the crowd briefly, his voice merry and rousing more cheer from the crowd. He led the party to the eastern halls, far from the burial grounds and into the major hall. 

Vast it was, large enough for all of the attendants with plenty of space for more dwarves to gather. Dain and Balin sat apart from them as honored guests. Dwalin located his brother and sat beside him. It was impossible to tell what went through his thoughts. Nrar had been failing to win over Dwalin, although Kíli suspected most of it had to do with his frustration towards Kíli. 

Kíli and Nrar sat at the high table overlooking the rest of the hall. He could not understand why this wedding needed a feast, for it was hopefully temporary and it was not a union of love, but Balin had told Kíli that Nrar’s followers had called for one in celebration. 

The food was laid out before them, but Kíli had no appetite. The ornaments were too heavy to allow him to move with ease. But also a deep sadness was setting in. 

Although Fíli’s wedding ceremony was not as grand, it stood out in Kíli’s mind as one of the happiest days of his life. Of course, he and Míli both hated Fann the first time they met her, terrified that she would take Fíli away from them. But she never did; Fíli’s family and her family both resided together. Their wedding was marvelous. By then Thorin had brought his people great riches in the Blue Mountain, and although Fíli had requested a small wedding celebration the food was rich and the music a real delight to the ears. Kíli was surprised he even remembered much of the wedding, considering how much he drank that night. 

Kíli wiped away a tear. Although he never envisioned himself marrying, he never thought a wedding for him would be for this reason and in this situation. The feeling of intense loneliness settled in his bones. Although Balin and Dwalin were not too far off Kíli felt as though he was isolated from everyone else. He searched the crowd desperately for Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, but the feeling inside only intensified when he saw them so far away. 

“All hail Lord Nrar, the true king of Erebor!” cried a few dwarves suddenly, closely followed by many cheers. Kíli felt a stab in his chest. He caught Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur casting angry and shocked looks at the dwarves who uttered this. Bifur appeared he was about to fight them, his face reddening, but Bofur held him back. Kíli was again thankful for them. He could not see his other companions amidst the crowd, but he could not help but wonder if Dori was among those who cheered. But it did not matter who else shared in their views; the words cut deep into Kíli. 

He turned to Nrar, who sat as though he were already high king of all the dwarves, looking utterly regal in the many fine jewels and the crown. He had not moved at all during the outburst, keeping his conversation going with Dain and a few others who had migrated to the high table on his request. Only Dain seemed to have heard them, and although he kept his normal face, Kíli sensed the disappointment inside him at having witnessed his own men declare Nrar as their leader. 

But even with a few on his side, Kíli could no longer endure sitting here. He battled with himself if this union was even the right choice. But he could not back out, not now. He needed Nrar, he told himself, lest the kingdom collapsed or a mutiny was raised against him. He could not imagine this bond lasting for more than a year, or however time he needed to be well again. It did not seem possible to be cured so quickly, but Kíli told himself this to keep from screaming. 

Kíli excused himself to Nrar, who did not mind in the least that Kíli was leaving. He was having too much fun with his conversation with his closest friends; tankards of ale were steadily littering the table. Kíli held back any tears just long enough to thank everyone at the table for their support and for coming. None save for Dain paid attention. 

He let the tears roll freely as he made his way back to his room. There were no dwarves to witness him in this state, so he felt free to let his emotions run raw. He could not stop thinking of what Fíli and Míli, as well as Thorin and Dís and even his father, would say if they saw his pathetic wedding. He was certain none would ever imagine this to be the reason for a political marriage. 

And it had been botched up. He did not know Nrar’s inner name, and it was required. There was no trust that went into the stone block. Kíli only hoped this would change over time, but the part of him that believed in the superstitions feared for the worst. 

“I need klamath weed,” he thought desperately. “I need to be cured soon. I cannot keep thinking bad thoughts!” 

But did he really want to return in place of a king? He felt freer already, though little time had so far passed. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that he no longer had to pretend to be a mighty ruler. He was only a scared child crying for things in the past. 

Kíli let out another deep sigh of relief when he closed the bedroom door. The pressure was off him, at least for now. His people did not need him, and they seemed glad for it, already declaring Nrar their rightful ruler. Kíli took his time removing the ornaments from his beard and hair, the ceremonial robes that would have been breathtaking had it not been for such a grim occasion. The color did not leave his mind: a glimmering blue, a color and fabric rarely used and revered by the dwarves, had looked so wonderful on Fíli and Fann on their wedding day. 

He slipped into a simple night robe before getting into bed, burying his face in his pillow. He could still hear, though it was very faint, the cheers and music from the party below. The dim noise hummed in Kíli’s head as he slipped off into slumber.

* * *

It took much from Bofur and Bombur to calm Bifur down. He finally agreed to sit down and keep silent, but he was still fuming. Kíli had visited him several times over the past couple months to share with him stories of what others have said of him. It sickened him to know there were dwarves who would speak so ill of their king. No matter what Kíli had done, he was still king as far as Bifur was concerned and deserved more respect than this. An acting king was nothing in Bifur’s eyes. 

“Please, Bifur,” Bombur begged gently. “It won’t do us any good to argue with them, not with Nrar in control.” 

“And have our friend’s honor pissed on?” Bifur raged. 

“It’s not worth it,” Bofur said sternly. “Do you want us to be miles away from Erebor if things get worse for our Kíli?” 

Bifur sighed deeply. “Fine.” But he couldn’t focus on the meal. He had no appetite to begin with, as did the rest of his family. Not even Bombur looked content, as though they all sensed a storm looming overhead. No matter how much Dain had praised Nrar, Bifur didn’t like him. He had tried so hard to convince Kíli to drop the wedding idea. 

His hands still trembled with pent up rage. 

“Where is Kíli?” Bofur suddenly said. They all looked up and did not see Kíli at the table, but all guessed what must have happened.

* * *

Gimli was busy chugging down his tenth tankard (or so he thought; he had lost count), and he gave a feeble fist-pump at whatever cheer was breaking around him. 

“Don’t do that, dear,” his mother Nîlma said, who was looking around her with mild disgust. 

“What did they say?” Gimli asked, his voice slurred. 

“They say Kíli is a great king!” Óin said, grinning, and set his ear trumpet down. 

“That is not what they said!” Nîlma said as her husband Glóin hand-gestured to Óin the exact words they had used. “They are turning against your cousin at this moment!” 

“But why?” Gimli asked. 

“Because he’s sick,” Glóin explained. “He is sick but isn’t given any courtesy for it! The nerve of our fellow dwarves! I would demand we leave Erebor had I not bothered with that quest!” 

Gimli shrugged. “It won’t last. Kíli’ll exile them all in the end.” He ordered another ale, not seeing his young cousin leave the high table.

* * *

“The crown was not for Kíli,” Glori thought, frowning. She didn’t believe the story when Bofur told her, and even as she worked on it she kept denying it, if to encourage herself to keep working. She could not understand why the dwarf king was doing this. He did not seem ill to her when she met him. He was such a darling dwarf, if a bit shy. But shyness was no reason to call for a regent. 

She did not comment when her son Dori answered the cries of Lord Nrar as their true leader. They still had not tried Nrar, and as much as Dori was intelligent there were times when Glori lamented his foolishness. Today was one of those times. 

Her attention swayed to the other inhabitants in the hall. Ori sat next her quietly eating his meal, and Dori as well of course, but where was Nori? She had not seen her middle-born son since reaching Erebor. She knew it was he who stole her most prized necklace. She looked forward to reprimanding him for his sloppy theft; afterwards, she’d invite him over for tea.

* * *

_Not right_ , Balin gestured to Dwalin in iglishmêk. _They should not. Hurt Kíli._

Dwalin nodded but he did not reply. His frustration with Kíli was no secret. He did not detest the lad; after his outburst at him months ago, Dwalin found himself softening again. He knew Kíli since he was a dwarfling, and memories of Kíli infiltrated his thoughts in the recent past. He could not remain angry with Kíli, not when he remembered how the lad used to be when there was still hope in his heart. The dwarf was suffering. Had Dwalin also not wept over the lives of his friends? 

But one always went on with life. Why couldn’t Kíli do it? It wasn’t with any hatred that Dwalin was harsh on him. The lad needed to move on, and perhaps a strong kick in the right direction would set him right again. 

_Kíli must learn_ , Dwalin gestured back to Balin. _Kíli, done, mistake_.

Balin shook his head in disagreement, but both knew there was nothing more to add to the discussion. Suddenly Kíli stood up and in a quiet voice thanked the guests. Dwalin made to follow him, but Balin pulled him down. 

_Give Kíli space_ , Balin gestured quickly after seeing the tears in Kíli’s eyes.

* * *

Dain watched Kíli thanking the guests in a voice so small that the others must not have heard him before running off. It was odd to see one speaking despite knowing that none heard him, but Kíli made no move to getting himself heard. Dain was certain he saw a few tears dribble down his cousin’s cheeks, and his heart ached for the poor lad. The thought of going after Kíli to offer company crossed his mind, but in that moment he caught Balin holding Dwalin back. Perhaps it was best to let the lad cry alone, he decided. He was uncertain how to deal with such a cripplingly illness, but he figured how Balin and Dwalin treated Kíli was the right way to go. 

Nrar kept going on, his cheeks flush as he and his friends roared with laughter, passing joke after joke amongst each other without a care. It did not seem he had heard Kíli’s speech, or was even aware that his bondmate had left. Indeed, Dain could not remember a time when Nrar drank so much before, no matter the occasion. 

Dain’s nudge finally alerted Nrar to Kíli’s absence. 

“Where’d he go?” Nrar asked, his voice slightly slurred. 

“He needed some time alone,” Dain said. 

Nrar nodded and turned back to his meal. The flippant attitude bothered Dain, but he passed it off as effect from the drink. He leaned closer into Nrar. 

“Please be good to him,” Dain said softly in Nrar’s ear. “He is dear to me.” Nrar gave him a great big smile before chugging down an entire tankard of ale.

* * *

The hours passed deeper into the night, and the celebration slowly drizzled down. But all this was lost to Kíli. He would have slept till the following morning had the sound of his bedroom door creaking opening not woken him. 

He was discombobulated, dazed and not knowing where he was for several moments. His face was smashed into the pillow still, the warmth almost suffocating him. As he became aware again that he was in his room, that he came here right after the wedding he felt the bed sink around him as someone climbed over him. His nightgown was hitched up, but before Kíli could react in any way he felt the most severe pain rip through him. 

He did not scream, utterly stunned and transfixed in his still-sleepy state, at what was happening. His entire body lay stiff and frozen as though he dared not move, dared not show that he had woken. The heavy grunts and occasional curses alerted him to the identity of the other dwarf. The larger dwarf pounded into him fast and fierce, each thrust inducing more pain worse than the last until finally with a sickeningly satisfied groan, he pulled out and rolled off Kíli. Nrar fell asleep instantly, the stench of ale thick in his breath.


	5. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: non-con, abuse (physical and emotional.)

How he survived till morning Kíli did not know. He was unaware of when he finally went back to sleep. He had been lying frozen in his place for a very long time before he finally reacted to what had just happened. He did not dare waken Nrar, no matter how much he was upset at the other dwarf for coming into his room. He did not know what he could do. He simply stared at Nrar, half tempted to scream and lash out at him, but he was terrified of Nrar’s strength. He could do nothing but wait till the chance opened up to ask Nrar. 

His eyes caught the dolls on the dresser and he rushed over to them. Collecting them in his arms, he hid them well away from Nrar’s sight before slipping back into bed as stealthily as he could as not to rouse Nrar. His body was still shaking and pain seared with certain movements, but he did not let a single sound leave him. He kept as much distance between himself and Nrar, and somehow after what seemed like hours he finally drifted back to sleep. 

Nrar was not in his room by the time Kíli opened his eyes. Kíli checked around himself to make certain, then quietly slipped out to check on his dolls. They were unharmed, and Kíli kissed each of them before wiping away tears, laughing bitterly at himself for worrying so much over the dolls. He could not imagine them damaged. 

He did not place them back on the dresser, worried that Nrar would return. The memory of the night before rushed back at him and he held the dolls closer to himself. He wondered if the spirits of dwarves who passed away could witness what was happening in the living world, and if his father, uncle, and brother had witnessed this. What would they say to him or say to Nrar? 

After getting dressed Kíli went looking for Nrar. He was in the private dining room, enjoying a quiet breakfast by himself. He did not give any indication that he had heard Kíli entering. Annoyance grew inside Kíli; although Nrar was now acting king, Kíli would have preferred him to still respect the spaces that was considered part of of the direct royal line. 

He settled beside Nrar, waiting for him to make any sign. The situation was starting to look painfully familiar, and he berated himself for expecting any other reaction. 

“I hope you enjoyed the celebration yesterday,” Kíli finally spoke, his voice a bit shaky in the silent room. 

Nrar nodded, flashing Kíli a brief look before turning to his meal. 

Kíli took a deep breath. “I hope your room is to your liking? I was not expecting you to join me.” 

Nrar continued eating in silence, but Kíli sensed tension rising. He gathered his remaining strength. “I was…surprised…with what you did. I did not think…” 

Nrar met his eyes, and Kíli’s voice failed him. What emotion was in Nrar’s eyes in that moment, Kíli had no clue and the thought of not knowing terrified him. A hand reached out and Kíli flinched, but Nrar only held his hand. 

“What about it bothered you?” Nrar asked. His voice held none of the emotions Kíli expected. But when he failed to respond, Nrar smiled so sweetly that Kíli felt himself returning the smile. He continued. “Are we not married? It is permitted then, is it not?” 

“But I never wanted this,” Kíli thought. “I bonded knowing that consummation wasn’t part of the deal.” But he did not say those words aloud. 

“I was…surprised, that’s all,” he told Nrar. 

Nrar chuckled. “What else do you expect from a marriage?” 

Kíli gave a shrug. “It wasn’t based around love,” he mumbled, but he was sure Nrar heard him. “I didn’t think we had to.” 

He cupped Kíli’s chin in his hands, forcing Kíli to look up. Kíli was expecting Nrar to hit him, but instead he felt the softest of kisses on his lips. His stomach turned; never had he shared a kiss with anyone, never desiring such affection before, and to think the first lips he would touch would be Nrar’s…

Kíli suppressed his shudder as Nrar released him. 

“Perhaps I am growing fond of you,” he said, “although that remains to be seen. I do not know how I should feel about you. It is rather distressing to imagine oneself loving a mere child, no? 

“When we wed you asked me to rule this kingdom in your stead. But I believe you never gave me a chance to bring in my own request, am I correct?” 

Kíli’s eyes widened. He had never thought of it before. Nrar watched him, a deep smile on his face, clearly enjoying the thoughts flickering through Kíli’s eyes, before finally he spoke again. “Then I make this my request: that you give up your body to me. You asked me to rule a kingdom, and I gave up my home in the Iron Hills to come here. A home for a body, kingship for love - I do not think I am asking much. I believe it is only fair. After all, ruling a kingdom after such poor hands have dwelt them…I think I am deserving of a little treat at the end of the day.” 

Kíli hung his head. “You are correct. I am sorry.” But _that_ , whatever it was, was not love. Or perhaps he was mistaken after all. He had never bed another. Perhaps it was his own weakness which made the act so painful, which in this case made him deserving of this pain, Kíli told himself. That would be the best way to rationalize it. 

The pain was still stinging, occasionally shooting upwards. He needed medicine for this soreness, and he knew he needed to keep some on hand if this was to be a regular occurrence. He will need it as his body could not even handle a basic physical act. He excused himself from the table and left, his heart heavy but resolved. Nrar had a point. The kingdom needed much work, and it was the least he could do to offer his body. After all, they were married. It was all right. Perhaps he could grow to love Nrar, and the same likewise. 

Kíli assured himself with those words over and over as he head to the apothecary. The klamath weed had still not arrived, but the medicine he had been looking for, willow tree bark, was in stock and plentiful. 

“Are you certain you don’t want opium instead, my lord?” the apprentice asked. “That is an awful lot for just minor pain.” 

“It’s just to have my own stock in my chambers,” Kíli explained hurriedly, wishing the apprentice would just stay silent and do her job. “I’ve been getting headaches a lot recently.” 

“A headache, good boy?” asked Óin, who had just emerged from the back and at stood, mouth slightly open, at the amount Kíli was buying. “Would you rather I prepared for you some opium?” 

Kíli shook his head, too embarrassed to look at Óin in the eye. “No, just a headache. Personal stock.” He thanked Óin and the apprentice, and he rushed out with the bundle of willow tree bark before Óin could call him back. 

He was far from earshot, or he would have heard what Óin told his apprentice. 

“Just make sure he isn’t taking that with klamath weed when it arrives,” Óin grumbled, “or Mahal help us with the mess we’ll have on our hands!”

* * *

Her familiar face was the most welcoming sight to Balin. Arms outstretched, he welcomed Dolla with a hug and a shared kiss. She appeared slightly weakened by her journey, though thankfully she had not been traveling alone. One of the largest dwarven companies yet from the Blue Mountains had arrived this morning, of Durin’s Folk and others who were curious about the regained kingdom. 

“Balin! The quest has aged you, dear,” Dolla said, smiling up at her husband. They were both easily the eldest among the crowd gathered in the front gates of Erebor. In respect the other dwarves made a path for them as Balin and Dolla both helped one another up the steps. 

“Quest and the days since have both been tiring for me, I’m afraid,” Balin said. “But what of you, beloved?” 

“We set out the moment the air showed promise of spring,” she said. They stopped occasionally in order for her to catch her breath. She was older than Balin. A tremble had set in her right hand, and blindness had claimed her left eye. Her long silvery hair was rolled up elegantly in the manner reminiscent of Erebor in its old glory days. They had married rather late in life and had no children, but Balin thought her the greatest light in his life. The deaths of his friends left him more protective and softer than ever. As she spoke of her journey, he held onto her tenderly as though she could easily slip off the steps. He felt life return to him. The days following the battle, watching Kíli slip off into the darkness had taken so much out of him. 

“So tell me, who is our king?” Dolla asked as they neared Balin’s bedchambers. “I heard our Thorin was slain in battle.” 

“That is a long story, dear,” Balin said, and his eyes suddenly fell on the parcel under Dolla’s arm. She smiled. 

“I was given this from postal in Lake-town,” she explained. “These are for the apothecary. I do want to see more about this medical school, if the rumors are true of what Óin is planning! I can no longer work because of my hand and eye, but I would like to see where he is going with this.” 

“Um, pardon.” The couple stopped at the sound of a timid voice. They turned around to meet Kíli, who was carrying a large bag and was chewing on something, a chip of wood by the look of it. “Is there klamath weed? I was expecting a stock to come in for me.” 

“Yes, I believe it’s in here,” Dolla said, and dug through the bag for the plant. Balin wasn’t smiling. He knew Kíli had been waiting for this medicine, but it still saddened him to know the young dwarf felt he needed something to fix his ailment. Dolla was watching Kíli with sadness as well. He had not so much as recognize her, his attention solely on the plant in Dolla’s hands. The story was clear to her, and she placed a hand on Kíli’s shoulder. 

“Would you like me to get one of my personal healers to prepare the first cup for you, dear?” Dolla asked kindly. Kíli nodded, thanking her. She took the amount needed for the tincture and Kíli left with the rest. 

When he was out of earshot, Dolla turned to Balin. “So he is our king then.” 

Balin sighed. “ _Was_ our king.”

* * *

Dain Ironfoot left for the Iron Hills one week after the wedding. Kíli wanted to ask him about what was allowed in the bond between himself and Nrar, but he found the words stuck in his throat. Although he had told himself to accept Nrar taking his body, he still had questions. None could possibly fathom what went on in their - in _Kíli’s_ \- bedroom in the nights before this moment. Nrar took every chance to satisfy his urges inside Kíli, recently coupling his thrusts with hitting Kíli until he bled. The night before he tied Kíli to the bed and gaged him so he would not scream, then gashed his arms and legs. Was this all part of the deal? 

Kíli was taking more willow tree bark to ease the pain each morning, and he worried constantly of getting infections from the wounds. Still he said nothing, although he had so many questions for Dain. But when Dain went to embrace him, he saw the cuts. Kíli was too slow in pulling up his sleeve, and the scars stood out bright red for a moment before their eyes. Dain studied Kíli’s eyes with deep sympathy. 

“I do hope this new medication they’re giving you will help,” he said. “I am so sorry it’s getting this bad for you.” 

Kíli nodded and could not stop the tears although he knew how angry they made Nrar. He wept for his fate, how filthy he felt, and out of fear of losing Dain. He had been nothing but supportive, a loving father, to Kíli since he reached Erebor, and the thought of him gone with Nrar around made him tremble. The older dwarf embraced Kíli and kissed his temple as though he were his own son. Kíli kept forgetting that Dain trusted Nrar, and always that uncertainty, that perhaps he himself - Kíli - was the real problem. 

“Is there anything you wish to say before we part?” Dain asked, giving him a warm smile. “I am in no hurry to leave.” 

The words were so close out of Kíli’s mouth. But then he caught Nrar glaring at him, and the words froze in his throat. He shook his head. 

“It’s all right, Kíli,” Dain said. “I will send my raven to you regularly as promised. You have Nrar to stand by you, as I am sure he will. Take care, dear Kíli, and may the following days be kinder to you.” 

After Dain and his company part departed, Nrar pulled Kíli towards their private chambers; shoved against the wall, Kíli felt the tip of Nrar’s sword dangerously close to his throat. 

“Are you in disagreement with something in our arrangement?” Nrar asked him, his soft voice full of honey. “I thought we could make this work, unless if you are unable to endure that as well, child?” 

Kíli shook his head. “E-e-e-everything is f-f-f-f-fine, my lord,” he stammered out. “I’m s-s-s-sorry.” 

“Not another sound from you,” Nrar said. “You cannot form words properly! Let me do all the talking for us both. I only wish to help you. I married you to rule this kingdom in your stead! I did not expect I would need to tend to your pettiness!” 

Kíli nodded again, and finally he was released. He waited until Nrar was far from him before he buried himself in the corner of his bedroom, cradling the Fíli doll close to him and feeling sicker with himself.

* * *

The months rolled into the summer, and Erebor took on rapid change. Seemingly before Kíli’s eyes the kingdom blossomed into a powerful nation with promise of growing even stronger. Nrar ruled the Lonely Mountain effortlessly, leaving Kíli utterly amazed but also embarrassed at his own ineffectiveness as king. The shame made him hide from his friends, which had caused a scene once when Óin went searching for him for some reason. If there was any proof of Kíli’s lack of worth, it was this. 

Though not acing as king, Kíli was still needed, if just to sit at certain meetings just to watch, but Nrar controlled everything. Kíli seldom spoke and seldom ate. Anyone inquiring about Kíli’s condition were informed through Nrar instead. Many dwarves since regarded Kíli with pity and fear, paving a clear path away from him. They already knew he was unstable, a broken dwarf, but the scars gave them reason for more fear. He could become violent, and many turned their backs on him yet remained on guard. One wrong move on his part, and Kíli was sure the other dwarves would not hesitate to tear him limb by limb. The thought didn’t seem so bad. 

Balin was appointed as Nrar’s chief advisor. Kíli could not help but notice the amount of work Nrar was pushing Balin to do, all on top of Balin still helping Kíli at times. Kíli begged Balin not to, out of fear of Balin discovering what else Nrar had been doing to his body and out of shame that he needed a caregiver. But Balin insisted, and Kíli sensed the reason was the same for why Fíli had forced the potion down his throat. And like Fíli Balin was paying for the price. Kíli would watch Balin eagerly retire to his own chambers to rest with his wife, and the self-disgust deepened inside Kíli. 

Balin was suffering, and Kíli blamed himself. After all, wasn’t he the reason why Fíli died? Had he lived, Fíli could have saved Thorin. Dwalin and Dori would not hate him. Balin would not be pushed to his limits by Nrar. There wouldn’t be a Nrar. 

And it was this thought, that all of this misery Kíli was bringing into the kingdom, that Kíli could not forgive himself for. Although Nrar’s rule was bringing them comforts, as a leader he was not kind. Any slip would earn the victim severe punishment, and if still left unsatisfied Nrar took out the rest on Kíli. Kíli never protested; he deserved every lash, every punch for abandoning his people in this manner. 

The abuse no longer bothered him. He expected the treatment despite the pain it caused him. The tears now never seemed to stop no matter how much he tried to stop them. He was constantly crying, but it only ever angered Nrar. But no matter how much Nrar tried to fix him, Kíli fractured a little more in Nrar’s hands. 

Perhaps what finally shattered Kíli completely was not seeing or hearing any news of his mother, sister, and Fann. Erebor was filling throughout summer as more dwarves set out to reestablish themselves in their homeland, but with every company coming in brought only more disappointment to Kíli. The summer soon passed and the early chill of autumn was again upon them. And still no sign of Dís or Míli, nor Fann with her child. The child, Kíli realized, was old enough to walk by now, and he still not had met her. 

He missed them terribly. He wondered often how they were feeling and what they were doing. Many a morning, while Nrar was tending to some business, Kíli would slip back up the secret passage. It was repaired during the summer from the damage it sustained one year ago, but still no dwarf ventured here. Kíli took it as his refuge once more. With his back against the rocky wall, Kíli would imagine himself inventing some means of teleportation, a flying machine of some kind, with a place to sit comfortably and above large wings that would take him soaring over the trees of the Mirkwood forest and sailing through the skies until he landed at the footsteps of his family’s home. 

The invention in his mind stood out vividly, but Kíli had no motivation to write it down, to sketch to possibly save for another time. The days of planning and immersing himself in crafts were long gone. Not with his remaining close family so far, not when he felt and dreaded that they detested him and blamed him for Thorin and Fíli. 

His every moment was taken up crying. It was the only thing he could do. Everything else was too painful.

* * *

Bofur bit gently on his tongue as he concentrated on the doll before him. A few more strokes and he would be done with this design. He smiled to himself, though sadness flickered in his eyes. With activity increasing in the mines and forges he had little chance to get started on this doll, and by now he was certain very little dwarves and men would be still interested in buying such a figure. 

Kíli’s large brown eyes stared at him, his smile contagious and his eyes glimmering from the fresh paint. Bofur thought he saw some sadness as well. It was hard to capture Kíli’s old look when recent memories were mostly of his grief-stricken state. Kíli had stopped visiting them some time during the summer, but with the amount of work everyone had it was hard to get another chance for a meeting. But Bofur was worried. Months ago they noticed scars around his wrist, and Bifur forced back the sleeves to expose more. 

They all had hugged Kíli as he wept. They were gladdened to hear that the klamath weed had arrived, but seeing how far Kíli’s sorrow had went terrified them. Bofur had tried to talk to Kíli, but he seemed scared, as if he was holding back something. His eyes constantly gleamed with unspoken nightmares, and a few times he was close to speaking but always held back. Bofur wanted to give him time, but inside he wished Kíli could tell them honestly what was ailing him. 

They all suspected Nrar, but Kíli had assured them Nrar had nothing to do with his recently condition. If anything, the lad had sung praise about Nrar. Bofur had to grudgingly admit the dwarf knew how to rule a kingdom. In each of his rare visits on the upper levels of the mountain he was taken aback by how much progress had taken place since his previous visit. 

But to be fair, Kíli did rule the kingdom during the winter months before a mass migration had taken place. Bofur still clung to the belief that Kíli was a fine ruler. 

Bofur stood up and stretched. He could not recall when was the last time he ventured up. A week or a month, possibly more. He had been so busy he lost track of time. Perhaps claiming ownership to the biggest industries among dwarves was a bad idea; the thought of giving away part of his business was becoming more tempting by the day. His entire life was spent working; though it was in his blood, he never took a chance to consider other areas of life. He loved his brother and his family, but sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be in Bombur’s place. 

The Kíli doll stared at him sadly. Yes, the expression was definitely sad, Bofur decided. Or bittersweet. Perhaps like him, Kíli too had been struck by the nostalgia of their quest. Somehow, things have not been the same since. Despite having everything a dwarf could possibly want, something was missing. 

Bofur kissed the doll on its brow and laughed gently at himself. 

“Look at me, being content to kissing dolls,” he thought, smiling sadly. What was it about Kíli that was making his heart ache so much? Memories of the dwarf flitted through his mind, of his smiles and laughter and jokes and utter foolishness at times that were all missed. And even his tears, his vulnerability, yet openness to have them help him. His everything. He was as intelligent and skillful as he was also foolish and reckless. And the more Bofur thought of Kíli, the fondness his heart grew, and the more desperate he became to meet him. He would seek him out, Bofur decided. The doll will be Kíli’s as a gift. 

He retrieved a bag and some wrapping paper, but before placing the doll in it he took another moment to admire the work. To admire Kíli. He brought the doll to his lips and sang softly in Khuzdul a blessing for Kíli. Bofur did not know Kíli’s inner name and that would have added strength to the blessing, but nonetheless perhaps this would bring the lad some joy in his life. 

Not wasting any more time, Bofur rushed out, stopping just briefly to let Glori know that he was heading out. He made for the throne room, and from there asked where Kíli’s private chambers were. He addressed himself as an old friend in order to pass through the numerous guards, all the while feeling slightly alarmed at the amount of security Nrar felt necessary to have in his rule. 

He managed to locate the bedchambers, but before taking one more step into the hall a tall figure stepped before him. 

“May I help you?” Nrar asked. 

Bofur straightened up and kept his smile. There was no accusation or anything to imply that his presence was unwelcome, yet still Bofur felt it necessary to be on guard. 

“Hello!” Bofur greeted. “I was hoping to see Kíli. I had something to give him.” 

“A gift?” Nrar’s eyes flashed, but whatever lay behind him was gone a moment later. “I’m afraid he cannot take visitors right now.” 

Bofur’s heart sank. The desire to see him burned inside for reasons he could not well place. 

“May I have that?” Nrar asked kindly. “I will give it to him, as I am heading for our room right now.” 

“Our room?” Bofur blurted before he could stop himself, confusion clear on his face. He mentally kicked himself. He really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut, but the words took him by such surprise. He was positive Kíli had told them that he wanted the main bedchamber for himself. 

Nrar’s smile grew at Bofur’s confusion. “Yes, _ours_.” 

The words stung him. A sickening feeling boiled in his stomach while his heart felt it would burn out of his chest, but Bofur could not explain why. Something he must have eaten, he told himself. But why this feeling of defeat? He should be happy for his friend, for finding a companion in the curious regent. 

“Oh. Well, I wish you both all the joy together,” he said, smiling. 

Nrar chuckled, his voice soft and lovely in the otherwise quiet hall. “I will take the gift then. Thank you.” 

Finding no reason to object, Bofur handed the bag over to him. He thanked Nrar sincerely and made to leave when Nrar suddenly called out to him. 

“What is your name?” 

Bofur froze. Nrar did not know his name, despite his rule over all the miners and forgers. Perhaps Nrar did not even recognize him, as after all he was not dressed in his usual coat. He always dressed plainly when building toys. Bofur was about to reply when he stopped himself. Something told him even his public name was not to be known to Nrar. 

“Just a daft old dwarf in a hat,” Bofur said and bowed to Nrar. As he made his way back, he decided that he would remain the owner of the forges and mines.

* * *

Nrar watched the dwarf retreating down the hall. Just a daft old dwarf in a hat. The very look of him amused Nrar; it did not surprise him to know Kíli kept company with the lowborn sort. His affection for Kíli could not have been any more obvious. The look on the dwarf’s face upon realizing Nrar shared the same bed with Kíli was priceless. If he saw the dwarf again he would make certain to drive more daggers into him. 

He peered into the bag and furrowed his eyebrows. A doll tenderly wrapped in paper was smiling up at him, and it took him a moment to realize this was meant to be Kíli. There was a shine in his eyes, an innocence which had long left Kíli by the time Nrar met him. 

Feeling disgusted, Nrar stormed into their room. Had Kíli been inside he would have beat him till blood trailed from his head to his toes, but the pathetic weakling was currently bathing to nurse the wounds Nrar had given him just hours before. Tearing the doll out of the bag, Nrar smashed it against the wall until it shattered. He threw the remains and the bag onto the bed. 

That was when he remembered the other dolls. No sign of them were in the room, but he knew better. Kíli loved his dolls; he would put them someplace safe, someplace he did not think Nrar would look. But the dwarf was an idiot. Nrar found the dolls under the bed, wrapped in blankets as though they were infants. He dragged them out and took the first. It was of the dwarf’s brother, ridiculously dressed as though he were king. He brought his hand to lovingly stroke the golden hair, then twisted the head till it snapped from the body. 

After being satisfied with the destruction of the dolls, all laid out on the bed, he finally took a deep breath, having settled his nerves. There was no mistaking that the dwarf he saw earlier was the toymaker himself. Nrar would have him flogged, but he found no reason. Driving stakes into his heart with his words was far more satisfying. And he preferred the damage to come to Kíli.

He could not explain what drew him so much to Kíli in such manner, why the thought of the dwarf enflamed him into blind rage, but he supposed it all had to do with his new power. Ever since that moment, two years ago now almost, when he discovered infinite power. His temper was becoming harder to suppress, and his body developed a carnal need that was never there before. But it mattered not; the pathetic infantile dwarf was there for him to use for whatever need he had, so long as he kept his mind in a weak state. It had taken him some time to convince Kíli to stop taking klamath weed after reading about its effectiveness. He could not deal with a meddlesome king. Kíli was a nuisance enough even in near-catatonic state. 

Now that the dolls were out of the way, Nrar studied the bedroom while twirling the ring on his finger. Ever since the coronation he had not seen Kíli wear the Arkenstone. He was certain the dwarf hid it somewhere, but he had already checked every drawer with no avail. He returned to the blanket the dwarf dolls had been wrapped in and gave a disgruntled snort. Apparently the fool did not find the Arkenstone precious enough to protect in the same manner. 

A meek gasp alerted him. Slipping back on his gloves and spinning around he saw Kíli frozen on his bed, picking up and studying the pieces of his dolls. The tears were rolling freely, his shoulders slumped in defeat, his long wet hair dripping over the mattress. In confusion he noticed the third new doll and studied it. 

“Your friend was here earlier with a gift,” Nrar said softly. “I admit I was embarrassed. You are too old for dolls, love. I have to change that.” 

“But they are gifts,” Kíli whimpered. He picked up the remains of the new doll and examined it with wide eyes. “It’s so beautiful…” 

“But no king should have dolls!” Nrar marched closer. “It was a daft old dwarf in a hat who brought it.” 

Kíli blinked, understanding in his eyes. The simple act flared up intense jealousy and anger inside Nrar. 

“Do you know him? Was he part of the quest?” 

Kíli said nothing more, but Nrar took that to mean a yes. “So a history is between them,” Nrar thought, and suddenly he was upon Kíli, showering him with punches. “For your own good!” he grunted each time Kíli begged him to stop. Eventually Kíli stopped and just let Nrar do as he pleased. The carnal need returned, and Nrar wasted no time. 

Kíli let out a sharp pained gasp as Nrar forced himself inside. 

“I am sorry,” Nrar said softly, kissing him tenderly. “I only wish to make this work. I’m here to help you.”

“It hurts,” Kíli said tearfully. 

“I’m doing everything I can to make it better. It wouldn’t hurt so much if you were stronger.” Another kiss. “Say you love me.” 

Kíli nodded and feebly returned the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flying machine Kíli dreams up was inspired by Leonardo da Vinci’s model of the ornithopter.


	6. Willow Bark and Klamath Weed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warnings: graphic violence, blood, gore, and suicidal ideation. Also a lengthy medical discussion (apologies from now if this makes anyone uncomfortable.) 
> 
> Apologies for not getting this out sooner. I was done a few days back but kept going through this and editing things around. Please excuse any typos; I try my best to get all of them. :)

When Dolla arrived to Erebor, things were fine for a while. But recently she had begun to cry out in her sleep, caught in nightmares that never seemed to abate. Her cries were heard even in the royal bedchamber where Kíli would be jolted awake and just lie there, hearing her words until Balin was able to hush her back to sleep. The incidences always mortified Kíli. Somehow he never remembered what the words were by morning, but in the darkness they held meaning - warnings of grave danger. And Kíli always felt _them_ the moment Dolla began to scream. Whatever they were, they were in the room watching Kíli, and he was sure they were in Balin and Dolla’s room as well. Why else would she scream? 

Kíli was terrified to go back to sleep. Mountain wights or some other spirit - they were here. He was certain. But what evil could attract them to the royal house? He was terrified of opening his eyes whenever they were near, his mind racing with images of the most horrific monsters he could possibly run into. But he always kept his eyes closed shut, and prayed each time Dolla began to scream in her sleep that Balin would quiet her again soon. 

The days were different. By morning Dolla could not recall what nightmares had plagued her dreams, and there was no feeling of any wicked spirit in any part of the mountain. Kíli mentioned the happenings to Nrar in hopes that he would know, but Nrar paid him no heed.

* * *

Kíli began taking klamath weed again in secret when Nrar wasn’t around. Nrar had warned him that the plant would not be effective, and for most of the summer Kíli stopped. But he felt he needed it. The sorrow in his heart had not been lifted. He was constantly worried about his mother and sister, and Nrar’s words regarding them only made the situation worse.

“They probably didn’t find any reason to come,” Nrar said some days. And in other days he said, “Orcs must have waylaid them and killed them.” 

Kíli was not sure which was worse: to be forgotten by what was left of his family or to suffer another death. The moments spent near the secret passage came to a halt. Nrar’s servants and guards would not allow Kíli to venture far on his own anymore, though the reason for this change was never explained to him. Nothing ever was. Kíli was content to just search his room. He found an old map of Middle-earth, and though there were no instruments with which he could use to measure the distance, he tried his best to calculate. 

The map had to have been made many eons ago, possibly even before the Third Age, as some of the names were unrecognizable to Kíli and Erebor had not yet been named; the long years had faded the cartographer’s ink, but Kíli could still make out the shapes of the mountains and located where his family’s home were. Assuming they were not met with any trouble along the way he predicted the journey would take about three months, but depending on their party and the changing weather it could be as long as five months. If Fann was to travel with her and Fíli’s child then they had to leave the Blue Mountains before September, and this was still cutting things close. He could not imagine why they would remain there for so long. Dolla and many other dwarves had come in the early spring. 

Kíli set the map down in defeat. Either his family had died or they had truly abandoned him. The thought sickened him, but it only made sense. They would have come for Thorin or Fíli, not for him. Wasn’t he the lazy child, the one who always slept late, the one who did not bother with studying the manners of kingship and wasted his days studying rocks and playing at the beach? 

The thought of it made Kíli wish Nrar could come into his room right now and flog him again. He deserved so much pain for all of his failures, for bringing everyone down. Wiping back the tears, Kíli got on his stomach on the floor and reached into the narrow opening underneath the cabinet. He pulled out klamath weed from within. It was going against Nrar’s wishes; he had told Kíli to stop taking the plant, but Kíli couldn’t stop. He did not bother making it into a tincture any more. He ate handfuls while holding back feelings of self-disgust. Going against Nrar’s wishes weren’t right, but Kíli needed to fix himself somehow. If he could just be able to compose himself, then he would not be a failure at everything. Nrar would not have to look at him with such deep disappointment. 

He also chewed some more of the willow tree bark. Pain came and went throughout the days, from numerous places around his body. Other changes were taking place, though Kíli did not know the reason. He assumed it was from lack of eating or just the intense stress he was under constantly, or perhaps the medicine was just changing him in little ways. 

He studied about his room. The box full of the remains of his dolls were eventually thrown out. Kíli wanted to keep it - refusing to let go of anything that Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur had given him - but Nrar threatened to use the biggest piece to thrust into him. 

Just as he was contemplating taking more klamath weed a loud shattering of glass breaking, coupled by shrieks, tore through the otherwise quiet halls. Kíli jumped to his feet as the commotion continued, screams and shouts and sobbing all meshed together. He dashed out of his door and down the hall to the source, making his way to the throne room. 

Balin was on his hands and knees, panting and with a pained look on his face. Broken glass was beside him, and standing high above Balin was Nrar, screaming with all the rage at him. Dolla, trembling from head to toe, was trying to calm the regent, but it only fueled him further. He backhanded her across the face before shoving her away. A small scream escaped from Kíli’s lips. Nursing the sting on her cheek, Dolla lost her balance and could have broken her hip upon collapsing to the floor had Dwalin not grabbed her in time and set her gently next to her husband. The fire in Dwalin’s eyes were all too familiar to Kíli. How often had he seen them during their battles before and during the quest? He had always taken inspiration from them, letting it fuel his own rage on the battlefield. But this moment the fire brought terror in Kíli’s heart. 

“What is happening?” Kíli asked a nearby dwarf, keeping his fear as concealed as he could. “What has angered Nrar and them?” 

“Balin tripped and the meal flew everywhere,” replied the dwarf. “Our king does not ask much. He was publicly disciplining Balin when that crazy dwarf there ran in and punched our king.” 

Fear and pride blossomed in Kíli’s chest. “What Balin did is hardly anything to get this mad over!” Kíli thought. The other dwarves seemed to share his thoughts. All regarded Nrar with a new fear, including the dwarves who had cheered him on after the wedding. 

Kíli studied Balin, his heart aching at how much older he appeared at this moment. “Did he make the meal himself?” Kíli wondered. It did not seem like Balin had gotten any sleep. 

“Please, forgive me,” Balin begged Nrar shakily. “I did not sleep the night before. The task you set out for me yesterday -”

“SHUT IT!” Nrar shrieked. “I will not have any inept dwarf in this kingdom! We take only the hardest-working among our kin!” 

“Nrar, please,” Kíli said quietly, uncertain if the other dwarf had even heard him. 

“ _You do not insult my brother!_ ” Dwalin roared, his voice shaking the throne room. 

“Don’t raise your voice at me!” Nrar turned to Dwalin with his sword. “Attacking the king is punishable by death! Guards, get them! 

The guards charged, but Dwalin did not back down. He threw himself into the small army, his fists and axes flying with furious speed. Some of the younger dwarves held back, discouraged upon seeing the mighty warrior they were up against. Nrar continued to scream orders at them, only to be struck in the face with a glass flask that had not yet broken from the breakfast tray. 

“To the fires of Durin’s Bane with your kingdom!” Dwalin shouted. Then, hooking one arm around Balin and one around Dolla, he ran off with them slumped in his arms. Some of the dwarven guards attempted to stop them, only to be head-butted out of the way. One guard was knocked over the edge of the parapet and fell to his death. 

Kíli’s heart fell. Not once had Dwalin even glanced at him; Kíli suspected Dwalin did not even see him. Had he, Kíli would have not have hesitated to beg Dwalin to take him away as well. Nrar was screaming for their expulsion from the kingdom, and Kíli could not help but think that was a good thing. But the departure still left a cold dread in Kíli’s heart. He suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, surrounded by no family nor friend. 

Gathering his wits, Kíli ran to Nrar, who was still shouting orders at the dumbfounded dwarves to kill the three should they be found. 

“Please don’t hurt them, love,” Kíli begged, holding onto Nrar’s arm. “Have mercy! Balin is old and just needed some rest. Dwalin can’t stand seeing his brother hurt, as do all dwarf siblings. They meant nothing.” 

Nrar turned to him, and Kíli flinched at the look in his eyes, blazing with a fire he had never seen in another dwarf. Without another word, Nrar dragged him back through the halls and into their room. Shoving Kíli to the bedroom floor, he unbuckled his belt and bore it down at Kíli. The sharp edge of the heavy buckle sliced across Kíli’s cheek. Kíli covered his face, crying out. The belt came down fast repeatedly all over him; the pain, so heavy and sharp, was the worst Kíli had ever experienced under Nrar. It had been a long time since he wept during the beatings, having resolved to just accepting the pain; but he wept now, clinging onto a corner of the rug until darkness finally claimed him.

* * *

When Kíli came to, he felt something odd and warm dribble down his inner thighs. His leggings had been torn off by Nrar; despite having passed out, Nrar still sought release in him, but that was not what was bothering him. He shifted around on the floor and felt around the area.

Blood. He was sure he bled before, considering the amount of pain the act always was for him, but dwarven bodies healed quickly. If there was ever a tear, it was something superficial which closed up soon enough. But this moment was different. There was no sign of the blood relenting, and for a moment Kíli wondered if Nrar had stuck something inside him as punishment. He dared to feel inside and gasped at the pain. 

The blood even looked different in Kíli’s eyes, brighter than usual and rather thin in texture. He looked about himself and noticed blood stains on his tunic. Lifting up his shirt, he gasped at the thin trails of blood around his body. Where Nrar had struck him was also growing deep purple, and the bruises were expanding before his eyes. 

“Nrar? Love?” Kíli called out, unable to hide the fear in his voice. He tried to get up to look for him, but Nrar was no where in sight. “Balin?” Kíli called out weakly then chastised himself. Balin was no longer here. 

After throwing around a cloak over himself, he clambered to the door. Not a soul was in sight, but Kíli still exercised the most caution as he went, inching closer to his destination. The blood continued to drip, and the pain only pushed Kíli further until he stood outside the doors of a small clinic. He knocked and slipped away, praying that Óin was not in this branch. A portly dwarf with greying hair and thick glasses stepped out, calling out if anyone was there. Kíli approached him. 

“Is Óin inside?” he asked, his voice shaking. 

The dwarf studied Kíli’s face with mild alarm. “No, my lord, but good sir! Your face! What is the matter? Do you need me to get Professor Óin for you?” 

“No!” Kíli pushed himself inside along with the healer. “I need you to help me, but promise no one hears of this!” He passed by a mirror, and he froze, understanding the dwarf’s words. Purple patches were also appearing on his face where Nrar had struck him. Nearly the entire left half was covered in bruises. Kíli turned to the dwarf, his body shaking. “Help! The bleeding won’t stop! I think I’m dying!” 

The dwarf wrapped a kind arm around Kíli and whispered soothing words to him as he led him to the examining room. Kíli was stripped of his clothing and made to lie on the examining bench. The dwarf healer, who introduced himself as Varis, took his time, his hands touching Kíli as gently as he could when he saw Kíli flinch the first time his cold hands were on him. 

“Apologies, my king,” Varis said. 

“Just Kíli, please.” 

Varis nodded his understanding. He explained to Kíli what he was about to do before performing each step, giving the lad a chance to prepare himself for every prod. He jotted everything down in his book. 

“What caused this?” he mumbled worriedly to himself as he examined Kíli’s entrance before pressing a cloth against it. “Tell me, are you currently taking any potions or herbs?” 

Kíli nodded. “Willow bark and klamath weed.” 

The color drained from Varis’s face. “By Mahal! Who told you it was acceptable to take both at the same time?” 

“No one,” Kíli said. “But I need them every day.” 

“And did anyone tell you that taking both will thin your blood and cause bleeding like this?” 

“Umm…” Kíli bit his tongue. Óin had sought him out before, but he always hid from him. “I never thought to ask. It’s my fault.” 

Varis shook his head. “You must stop taking them! Why are you taking willow bark on a regular basis?” 

“I get pain a lot.” 

“Why not try opium?” 

“A healer gave me opium years ago after an injury, and my entire body broke into a rash and I felt sick,” Kíli explained. “I kept to willow bark since then.” 

“I see. Intolerance to the property of the substance.” Nodding, Varis made a quick note of that in his notes. “How long has this been going? Have you bled like this before?” 

“Just now. I’ve never bleed from _there_ before.” 

“Have you noticed any other changes before this moment? Any bleeding gums?” 

Kíli shook his head. 

“Black stools?” 

The expression on Kíli’s face as realization dawned on him was all the reply Varis needed. He gave a deep sigh. “Internal bleeding. Your guts must have been bleeding for a while. 

“You need treatment instantly! I will be back. Stay here.” 

“Don’t tell Óin, please!” Kíli begged. Varis nodded, frowning. The minutes passed. Kíli shivered in the slight breeze, his bruised face flushing at how he was currently lying, naked and his legs slightly spread. 

Varsis returned with a large glass. He helped Kíli to a sitting position and gave him the flask. The liquid was thick and dark green, and scent familiar though difficult to place. 

“A simple remedy, more food than medicine but still vital,” Varis explained. “You need as much dark leafy greens as possible to reverse the effects of the adverse interaction. Your blood should thicken afterwards.” 

Kíli made a face at the first sip, taken aback by the heavily rich taste, but he chugged it down while Varis tended to the cuts, dressing them up to stop any infections. 

“I will need to see you every day until your stools return to a normal color and there is no more bleeding,” Varis said. “I will give you some honey as well to stop any infections from spreading. If anything occurs, don’t hesitate to come to me.” 

Kíli nodded and thanked him before gulping more of the drink. Because he had not been eating well in the past year, it was taking time to appreciate the rich taste, but he was starting to enjoy it. This had to be the most delicious treatment he ever had, he thought. 

He looked up to see Varis studying him. He had been sitting at his desk scribbling notes, but now his eyes were on Kíli with utmost concern. 

“Kíli, if you don’t mind me asking…where did the bruises come from?” 

“I did it to myself,” Kíli said, hoping that Varis did not notice his foot twitching nervously. 

“Even to your face? Why?” 

Kíli just shrugged and took another mouthful. 

Varis’s eyes did not leave him. “And what of…”

“Just an accident,” Kíli said, shrugging again. “Nrar and I do this a lot.” 

“Yes, about that…” Varis entwined his fingers over his knee, studying him intently. “Kíli, during my examination I saw fissures all along the anal cavity. Do you know what this tells me?” 

Kíli refused to look at Varis, but his gaze did not leave Kíli and eventually Kíli looked up at him. 

“It tells me that this isn’t the first injury you’ve had,” Varis said. “You just so happened to get unlucky this time and the wounds won’t heal. I hope you do not mind me meddling in, but do either of you use any lubrication?” 

“What do you mean?” Kíli asked. 

“I mean does he lubricate you before entering?” Varis said. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been suffering through this without any preparation!” 

Kíli shrugged. “It does hurt, but I expect it to.” 

“It’s not supposed to!” Varis gave him a small smile bordering on worry. “It should be enjoyable for both parties. I could get something for you both to use. Any oil would do, though perhaps we need something gentle for your condition. I could speak with him myself, educate you both on the -”

“No!” Kíli’s eyes widened. “You cannot tell him I was here! He’ll…” 

“He’ll what?” Varis got on his feet and approached him. Tentatively he brought a hand to Kíli’s shoulder. “Tell me in truth, where did you get those bruises? I know he was angry earlier today, what with the expulsion of his chief advisor and his family, and the death of one of his guards. What happened after that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Kíli, the signs of abuse are evident on you! He used you to lash out his anger. I do not know how long this has been going on, but everyone in the kingdom is noticing that he is becoming crueler. Have you noticed any change in his behavior or was he like this to you from the beginning? I mean, if he is taking you without your consent-” 

“Of course I consent!” Kíli said.

“Your body tells a different story!” Varis said. 

“I agreed he could take me in exchange for the throne!” 

“Is that your definition of consent? To just lie there and endure whatever he does to you? The exchange upon your marriage to him isn’t fair in the slightest. He gains everything, and what does it leave for you?”

Kíli searched for words to argue back, but finding none, he just sat there, frozen and staring warily at Varis as he spoke. 

“It does not matter what Nrar’s position is in this kingdom; this is an extremely serious offense. We dwarves don’t lay a hand on one another in such manner. He will be tried for it if you’d let me help you. I have all the evidence that will get him expelled, possibly even executed for harming our king. Kíli, if this is happening frequently, if he is raping you-”

“ _He is not raping me!_ ” Kíli shrieked, his eyes wider than ever and studying Varis as though he was seeing him for the first time. The flask shattered in his hand, and without think, Kíli picked up the largest shard. He shoved Varis against the wall and brought the shard against the healer’s throat.

“Tell no one!” he half screamed and half begged. “No one! Or I will kill you! I swear he will end my life and yours if he even knew I was here!” He motioned to the notes Varis had been making. “Burn those! I beg you!” 

“I have to keep a file, for your sake!” 

“Burn them!” Kíli’s voice almost gave out with his screams. He dropped the shard and grabbed the papers, scattering them about the room. 

“My lord! Please!” Varis hazarded holding Kíli’s arm, but it only triggered a worse response. 

“Kíli, you are injured! Please, focus on getting better!” 

“Don’t speak of what happened! Swear it on Mahal’s name!” 

“Yes, yes! I promise! Please, focus on your health first!” 

Kíli pulled away from him and, suddenly feeling light-headed, crashed to the floor.

* * *

Kíli’s face was dry as Varis tended to the new cuts on his hand. Varis helped wash him, dry him up, and helped him back in the torn and bloody clothes. His conscience could not let the king off without any proper clothes, but he dared not risk Nrar seeing Kíli with anything unfamiliar, especially not with the current state Nrar was in. It was the least he could do to protect Kíli; he would have much preferred getting the news of Nrar’s abuse known, but he also had to respect Kíli’s wishes. Nonetheless, his mind was still firing with ideas on how to aid Kíli until he was ready to take action.

All the while he helped Kíli, the lad kept mumbling under his breath, though Varis caught snippets of it: 

“Not rape.” 

“Don’t tell.” 

“Fine…consent…married…” 

Varis kept his mouth shut, uncertain how to deal with Kíli should he flare up again. He waited till Kíli had calmed down enough to hear Varis’s instructions for his medical treatment. It was decided that Kíli could remain on the willow bark, in small doses, but had to abandon the klamath weed. He made Kíli promise he will return tomorrow. 

When Kíli at last was given back his cloak, he covered himself and without a word of thanks to Varis ran out the room. Varis offered a prayer for Kíli as he cleaned up the mess in the examining room, hoping he would not come to regret his silence.

* * *

It was not rape. Kíli kept telling himself this. It was not rape. Rape happened to nameless dwarves in stories who strayed into dark empty alleyways or in pubs full of cruel humans, in the tales meant to caution young dwarves from venturing too far in human lands. It happened to dwarves far from home, not to him, not to Kíli. He was married to Nrar. It was not rape if it happened inside a marriage, was it?

He wiped the tears from his face. He was stupid, he told himself angrily. Always making a mess of everything, always confused about everything. It was better if he bled until death finally took pity on him. 

And the startling realization came to him: he had a means to end it all. Willow bark and klamath weed both were stashed in his room, and no one save for Varis knew about it. He could take large quantities of each and not wake up tomorrow. He wouldn’t have to live with that word, that one word loaded with so much venom. How he feared it! What it implied, what it meant. Never, ever in his mind could he think it would happen to him - and it didn’t happen, he kept telling himself. The unthinkable was still far away in the cautionary tales; it wasn’t happening to him. 

“It’s not rape,” he said under his breath, tears pouring. He pounded against the wall. “Not rape, not rape!” He slid to the floor, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. He buried his face in his arms. How could he return to the royal chambers with this thought implanted in his head? What if Nrar could read his mind and know what Varis had said to him? That thick, heavy, sticky word, setting his heart palpitating. One look at Nrar and he would be given away. 

Kíli’s hands and knees muffled his scream. 

“Everything all right there, lad?” came a soft voice. 

Glancing up, Kíli eyes widened.

* * *

Bofur crouched beside the figure in concern. Having heard an anguished muffled cry, he went looking for the source. He called gently to the poor dwarf and was taken aback when Kíli looked up.

Much change had taken place. His skin was paler, with signs that he had lost more weight since Bofur had last seen him. Purple bruises covered nearly half his face. His eyes were bloodshot with tears, his shoulders trembling. 

“Goodness, Kíli! What happened, dear lad?” Bofur settled on the ground and moved closer. He made to embrace him, but Kíli flinched and Bofur decided to keep his distance. “Why…how did you get those injuries?” 

“I…I did it,” Kíli choked out. “I’ve…everything has gotten worse. I’ve lost control of everything, Bofur. Everything!” The last word came out as a pained whine and he covered his face again. 

“I am so sorry.” Bofur fought back his own tears. “I do not understand. You’ve been taking the klamath weed. I was hoping you would feel better.” 

“It hasn’t worked for me,” Kíli said, looking up again. “It’s made it worse. I was just at the healer, and he said it interacted with willow bark and made me bleed. The combination makes my blood thin or something. I could have died.” 

“By Mahal.” Bofur leaned back. “Kíli, forgive us! We encouraged you to take it. By Mahal - we could have lost you!” he made to embrace Kíli again but thought better of it, especially if the blood was thin enough to show bruises everywhere. He did not want to add any more on Kíli. 

Kíli shook his head. “You didn’t know. Óin tried to tell me, but I never gave him the chance. I’ve been avoiding him.” 

“Why?” 

Kíli shrugged. “I was worried he was angry at me.” He buried his face in his arms and was silent for a long while. Bofur debated what to say next, desperate to keep the conversation going; but just as the words were about to blurt out of him, Kíli looked up again. Fresh tears streaked down his cheeks, and there was a haunted, almost crazed, look in his eyes. 

“I’m scared, Bofur. The healer said I should throw it out because I can only take one of them. We agreed to throw out the klamath weed because I don’t have much alternative for the pain. But I can’t do it. I have a means to kill myself, and I am tempted. I know I should just throw it out, but I can’t find it in me. I want to die but I also don’t want to but I am so sick of living and none of this makes sense!” He dissolved into heavy sobs. 

This time Bofur did touch Kíli by resting his hand on his shoulder. “Give the klamath weed to us. We’ll destroy it for you. Want me to come with you to your room?” 

Kíli shook his head. “No! I don’t want to bother you.” 

“What of Nrar then? Do you think he’ll help collect the klamath weed with you?” 

Kíli stifled his scream, starling Bofur. “He doesn’t know I began taking it again! He told me he found research about it not being effective so I just stopped for some time. But I didn’t listen and I kept the stash away from him! I don’t want to upset him! I should have listened to him, but I’m an idiot! I’m always messing up everything and I deserve to die!” 

The following words whirled into unintelligible sounds, mingled with his hiccups and heavy sobbing, but whatever else he was trying to say was only inflaming his panic attack. Bofur was stunned; in all the times he’s seen Kíli get into these episodes never had it been this horrifying. It was as though some evil had crawled into his mind was was threatening to explode. He could not even begin to place what was causing all this hysteria, the worst he’s witnessed yet. He suspected the interaction, as scary as the bleeding would have been, wasn’t the full story behind this. 

Moving on impulse Bofur gathered up Kíli in his arms. The reason was not important for now. Kíli needed him. 

“It’s okay, Kíli, it’s okay,” he whispered soothingly as he rubbed tiny circles over Kíli’s back. “Cry, let it out, but know I am here. It’s okay. You can punch me if it’ll help you.” He meant it sincerely, and Kíli responded by wrapping his arms around him tightly. “It’s okay…don’t be afraid of hurting me. Let it out, love, let it out. Let all the pain come out.” 

Kíli buried his face in Bofur’s chest to silence his screams. Several of them came in waves, long and drawn out, the strength in them so fierce that Bofur felt his own body vibrate with each muffled shriek. While Kíli wasn’t looking Bofur let his own tears fall. With all the tragedies he had witnessed and experienced himself Bofur had never come across something like this before. He could not understand what sort of demon was now chasing his dear Kíli, only that his heart was shattering with feeling how much agony the young king was in. 

He kept his arms about his friend, never letting go. It seemed like an eternity when Kíli’s attack finally began to subside. Bofur in the meantime gently rocked them together, humming very softly in Kíli’s ear. He suspected Kíli would drift off into sleep, but when he glanced down, Kíli’s eyes were wide open, fear still swimming in them. 

Kíli met his gaze. “I can’t go back up there,” he said. “I’m such a mess, and Nrar has been having a bad day. I don’t want to cause more trouble.” 

Bofur frowned. Through Glóin he heard about Dolla, Balin, and Dwalin’s expulsion; he didn’t know how that would affect Kíli and Nrar’s relationship, but he didn’t think it his business to ask. 

“You can come to my house if you’d prefer,” he said. “I do not believe you’ve met the most recent addition to our family. Minyu delivered in late June!” 

“The child,” Kíli said softly in realization. “I didn’t know so much time has passed - I would like to see them!” 

Bofur smiled. “Bombur and Minyu both should be home right now with the babe. Their children have taken over the restaurant in the meanwhile, and Bombur only leaves the house if Ori needs his help.” 

“Will it be okay, with how I look? I won’t scare everyone?” 

“It won’t matter!” Bofur said. “And why should you scare them? They’ll be delighted that the king visited them!” As he helped Kíli to his feet, an idea came to him. “If you want, we can send Janur or Febar to collect the klamath weed from your room. Just tell us where to find it.” 

Kíli nodded. 

“And would you like us to tell Nrar where you will be tonight, if you don’t want him to worry?” 

Horror filled Kíli’s eyes again. “I…don’t know. I don’t want to worry him,” Kíli said. “But I…it’s okay. I don’t want him to find me…just want alone time with you… 

“Oh, and is Bifur there? I don’t want him to see me either, if that’s okay…” 

Bofur’s eyebrows furrowed with his frown; Kíli would never pass up a chance to see his closest friend. But he said nothing. He led the way, taking Kíli away from the abandoned alley and back to busier streets. Kíli walked with his head hung low, covering his face with his hood and hair. Anyone they passed would never have guessed that the dwarf was their king. 

Bofur along with Bifur and Bombur had selected three homes lined next right against one another to be theirs. The homes were spacious inside, but the three drilled a new doorway leading into the other homes, having never gotten used to living apart for long. It was sufficient to say that by now there was no telling whose house belonged to which dwarf. They regularly visited one another, and Bombur’s children often spread out, taking up bedrooms in the other two homes. In the end it became one massive house behind the new restaurant Bombur and Minyu ran. 

When they reached the restaurant, Kíli began to grow nervous again, clearly terrified of being seen. But Bofur pulled him through. Down the hall they went, away from any customers’ eyes. Passing the kitchens, Bofur quickly signed to the children of retrieving the klamath weed. Then he led Kíli through the backdoor and into Bombur’s home. 

Bombur greeted them, but made no mention of Kíli’s state after Bofur quickly gestured to him to remain silent. There were much hugs and welcomes; Kíli was offered food and tea, but he kindly declined even when both Bofur and Bombur mentioned that he looked weak with hunger. He only asked for anything that was dark green, looking nervous and embarrassed as he requested it. He eventually explained to them that it was part of his medical treatment, and Bofur and Bombur responded by getting him more of the same foods. 

The children gathered around Kíli excitedly, but all remained silent about his bruises after their father and uncle warned them silently. Kíli was content for the most part, though he flat-out refused to take off his cloak when one of the older ones offered to take it from him and at times his mind wandered far. Bofur entertained him with a few songs which the children joined in. 

When his meal was done, Kíli was next led to the back room. The children could not follow in, especially not the youngest ones, for they made a racket wherever they went. In the nursery sat Minyu with her child. The dwarfing at four months was still very small, and he was curled beside his mother’s breast. Minyu had just finished feeding him, and she welcomed Kíli as she pulled up her blouse. The child was already asleep, but Minyu motioned for Kíli to take a look. Bofur could see light returning to Kíli’s eyes as he studied the small dwarfling. 

_Beautiful_ , Kíli signed to Minyu, adding in several gestures of blessings over the child’s head. Touched, Minyu nodded in thanks. Bofur helped Kíli to a seat as Minyu rocked the dwarfing gently in her arms, singing to him. Bofur settled beside him. 

All was silent as they continued to watch the mother and child. The child slept well for the most part, but once each time the child got cranky again, she made soft sounds in the child’s ear until he calmed down again. Kíli sat back and gave a pleasurable hum as tingling spread from the tip of his head down his spine. A smile spread as sleepiness crept over him.

As Bofur watched Kíli sitting there, mesmerized by Minyu’s singing, he smiled, realizing he’s found an alternative to klamath weed that just might help Kíli. His face broke into a wide smile.

* * *

“If you ask me, I think Kíli needs to move here permanently,” Maru said to his siblings as they worked in the kitchen. They spoke in hushed tones and only when they were certain no one could hear them. To add to their privacy they made certain to keep moving, letting the dishes clatter together to muffle as much of their voices as possible. Kíli had been in their home for several hours now. Febar had returned from visiting Kíli’s bedroom in the royal chambers, and all of the others gathered around him.

“The place was in a mess,” Febar said. “I heard Nrar thrashing around in there. What he was looking for, I have no idea. Don’t think it’s the klamath weed because he shouldn’t know about it. Anyhow, I went in as fast as I could and snatched the plants. Can you imagine what would have happened had Nrar caught me, or found the klamath weed before me?” 

“Things are getting worse between them,” Janur said. “The others don’t know this, but Nrar broke all of the dolls our uncles gave him. Nrar’s getting really vile towards our king.” 

“So you think those bruises…?” Maru began. 

“What else could they be?” Janur said. 

“I don’t believe that Kíli inflicted them himself,” Febar said. He alone asked Kíli about it, despite Bofur warning them not to mention the bruises. But Febar knew how to get the information he needed as delicately as possible. “There was blood in the room. Nrar is slaughtering Kíli and no one is stopping him.” 

“The blood could still be from Kíli’s doing.” Aprir said. 

“Then why isn’t Nrar doing anything to help him?” Febar asked. “No, Nrar is the one inflicting all these wounds.” 

“Our uncle’s a fool not to see it for what it is,” Aprir said. “Even with Nrar’s cruelty in his rule our dear uncle still looks for the good in him. He _always_ does that. You’d think he’d learn after being burned a few dozen times in the past.” 

A few of them gave heavy sighs. Maia, the youngest among the small group, shivered. “Nrar scares me.” 

“I won’t even get into the details of what I’ve seen happen in that room,” Janur whispered. She glanced at her youngest siblings, uncertain how to convey such horror in as light a manner as she could. “These are not acts any dwarf should even be capable of committing. Our king Kíli is keeping quiet about a lot of things, and these are things he shouldn’t be quiet about. I’m sure Nrar would be expelled if everyone knew.” 

“Why don’t you tell someone then?” asked Maia. 

Janur checked around them again. “I don’t want to do anything that may be against Kíli’s wishes, you see,” she said. “But the thought of not helping still hurts, of course. We’re close in age, Kíli and me. We could have been classmates. I want to tell someone.” 

“Then why don’t you?” Aprir pressed. 

“Because I’m scared,” Janur confessed. “What if he finds out I was the one who snitched and then comes after the entire family? Kíli is also scared. I want to help, but…I can’t. If he’s hiding things from us, then that means he’s not ready to get help. I don’t think it’s a good idea to force ourselves onto him. But I wish I can tell him that I know, at least to let him know he has a friend to share his secret with. I wouldn’t want to be in his place. I’d feel so alone even in a crowd.” 

The others mumbled their agreement, and a heavy silence fell. 

“Then how can we help him?” Febar said miserably, voicing the thoughts of everyone in the room. “What can we do, just stand here while things could worse for him? What if we lose our king and are stuck with Nrar forever?” 

Aprir wiped away a tear.

* * *

Kíli could not remember a time when he was more disgusted with himself. He was too weak to go back to his room, terrified of meeting Nrar after everything that had transpired. But by going to his friends’ home, he made the situation worse for himself. What explanation could he give Nrar now?

Despite this new issue to deal with, Kíli enjoyed his time. Distraction came to him in the form of the children of Bombur and Minyu. The youngest ones sat around Kíli in marvel, for Kíli was still king to them. They asked him questions about life as a king, and they sang to him songs which they had written. They revealed to him that they each had taken a second name inspired by each member of the Company, and that the had fought over who was to be Kíli until they saw their youngest sibling.

“It should be him,” Nover said sagely. “He’s first among my brothers and sisters born in Erebor.” 

“First among you?” Kíli said, glancing at Bofur. “There’s more on the way?” 

Bofur pretended he had a mini heart attack at the thought, ringing out laughter from others, including Kíli himself. 

Watching Minyu humming to the child brought back old memories to Kíli. Her soft humming was so much like his own mother singing him to sleep. He could almost recall the soft blanket around him and his mother sitting beside his bed. 

He jolted awake when Bofur gently prodded him. 

“Sorry, Kíli,” Bofur said softly. “I did not know you were so deep in slumber. I would have picked you up and taken you to a more comfortable spot myself.” 

“I’m fine,” Kíli said sleepily. They silently wished Minyu a good night through hand gestures, careful not to wake the baby. Bofur led Kíli through the halls and past the makeshift doorway into Bofur’s home. Unlike Bombur’s home, Bofur’s was less crowded, though it was not completely empty. Partially-done dolls and sketches of toy designs littered every table. Bofur clearly seldom ate in his own kitchen. Kíli was so tempted to study the dolls but worried he was intruding too much in Bofur’s personal space. 

Some of the children were already there, getting ready for bed. 

“This one,” squeaked shy Septi, pointing to one room, before rushing to her sister’s room. Bofur grinned at Kíli. 

“Looks like you got a bed,” he said. Kíli bathed and dressed in one of Bofur’s own nightclothes that he lent him. He was careful to wrap his torn clothes in his cloak and stash it far from sight. As the sleepiness faded, the tension rose in him again. Sickness sat heavily in his throat as he was shown to his bed. Bofur remained near him. 

“I’ll be in the room next door,” Bofur said. “Don’t hesitate to call for me. If you don’t want to shout, just knock on the wall. I will hear you.” 

Kíli fought back the bile in his throat. “Thank you.” A new wave of panic rose in his chest, but he kept it at bay. 

“Everything okay?” 

Kíli nodded. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see Bifur today.” 

“That is fine. I don’t want him to worry if he sees me,” Kíli said, smiling weakly. He was hoping Bofur would leave now, but Bofur continued sitting there. It seemed like he was suddenly seeing something in Kíli’s eyes that he had not noticed before. 

“Anything you want to tell me before I go, dear friend? Do you need anything: food, water, a song?” he smiled. 

Kíli shook his head. 

“All right then. I just want you to be well.” Bofur wished him a good night, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, and left the room. 

Kíli pulled the blanket over himself, suppressing a shudder. He prayed this was not the final time that he ever saw Bofur. He knew Febar had went to retrieve the klamath weed, and he had claimed he had not spoken with Nrar. But what if Nrar learned that Febar was related to the ‘daft old dwarf in a hat’? What if he learned where Bofur lived? Kíli could not stop imagining hearing the frightened screams from the children. Nrar’s silhouette haunted the bedroom as he slipped in with a knife stained with Bofur’s blood. He was the regent and acting king; he could get away with any murder. Bofur would have deserved it, keeping Kíli against Nrar’s wishes. 

And Kíli could not fathom a life without Bofur, nor the rest of his family. He wished he could remain here, surrounded by the children with their innocent dreams and songs. A part of him wanted to run to Bofur’s room just to speak with him, seeking that comfort and sense of hope that always came with Bofur, but the thought of doing that also terrified him. What if Nrar barged into the house in that moment, and what would he think seeing Kíli in a room with another dwarf, wearing Bofur’s clothes instead of his own? 

He slept fitfully. Nightmares shocked him awake throughout the night. They were too vivid, forcing him to live through horrific episodes over and over: of waking up, covered in blood, in finding the children dead, their bodies torn up like the dolls, and seeing Nrar hack away at Bofur’s remains. After few of these nightmares, Kíli could not longer go back to sleep. Every sound, every creak or the odd dwarf passing past their home made Kíli fear the worst. He slipped out of bed, deciding he wanted to get a drink of water. Every step brought him panic, and his eyes kept glancing back at the door.

* * *

Aprir sleepily made her way to the kitchens, her mouth parched, while berating herself for eating so many honeyed sweets before bed. As she approached the kitchen, she gave a start but did not yell out. The silhouette of the dwarf sitting at the kitchen was unfamiliar to her, so unlike her other siblings. But then she remembered that King Kíli was staying with them for the night.

In that moment he did not seem kingly at all to her. He sat stock still, frozen and his eyes slightly wide but unseeing. Tears glistened from his bruised cheeks. He gave no indication that he had heard her, and this disturbed her greatly. When he seemed so happy earlier with her youngest siblings, this was a completely different picture, the colors all drained out of him. 

She suspected there was more behind his facade earlier in the day, of course, having discussed him earlier with her siblings, but seeing this was different. She had never seen such illness before, this catatonia, this evil illness of the heart and mind. It made her sick just looking at him. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t life. It went against everything that she knew about life and living. Kíli may as well have been a living corpse in this very moment. 

It would haunt her till her death if she did not do something to help her king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Willow tree bark is where salicylic acid is derived from, which we also know as Aspirin. Klamath weed is another term for St John's wort, a herbal that you can buy over the counter today. There is a real (and very dangerous) interaction between them. Normally we see this more with combining warfarin/Coumadin and the herbal, but the idea is the same. The treatment is also used in real life: Vitamin K (although had Kíli lived in our time he would have been given Vitamin K through an injection.) 
> 
> Just thought about adding this for anyone interested. :)


	7. Pleasure and Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: non-con/rape, suicidal ideation, self-harm.

Before heading back to the royal chambers the following morning, Kíli made his way to the clinic. He shook off Bofur, who had offered to take him inside. Kíli didn’t want to bother Bofur further, although he desired to remain by Bofur’s side longer out of fear of what he will have to face once back in his chambers. 

Varis greeted Kíli warmly and was quick to assure him that no one else was present. He refused any apologies from Kíli about his behavior, telling Kíli kindly that he need not to apologize for his outburst. It was understandable given everything he was going through, but Kíli still felt awful for his actions. 

“I hope things went well,” Varis said, giving Kíli quizzical looks on the manner of his dress. Kíli wore the same clothes and cloak from the day before. Kíli explained everything to Varis, how he was too frightened to go back to the chambers and in the end remained with a friend. When he was done, Kíli expected Varis to lecture him on being braver, but his story only brought a smile to his face. 

“Then this will help my plan for you!” he said, motioning for Kíli to the examining room again. 

“Which is?” 

“The answers you will have should Nrar ask you. Tell him you were here. You were bleeding, so I kept you here overnight to help you. As you can see, I have no assistant, so I could not find a means to send him a note.” 

“But if he finds out about the klamath weed…I wasn’t supposed to take it. He told me to stop.” 

“And you did stop. See, willow bark can also cause bleeding if taken in massive amounts. You were in a lot of pain as of late, and took more than your body could handle. You’re supposed to take it with food, but you had forgotten to do that a few times. Here.” 

A book lay open on his writing desk, readied for Kíli’s arrival. Varis brought it over to Kíli. 

“Read and memorize this. Take as much as time as you need.” 

Kíli thanked him and poured over the entry a few times while Varis busied himself with preparing the drink. “But does it thin the blood?” Kíli asked when he was done. 

“Details! He need not know all of that!” Varis gave him a wink. He set the prepared flask of the thick green juice aside. After Kíli was done reading, Varis asked him questions and examined him briefly. When Varis was at last satisfied, he gave Kíli the flask and advised him to visit until his treatment was complete. 

Kíli’s journey back to his chambers was less fretful, for he marched with weapons he could use to protect himself. His heart sank only when he reached the throne room. More dwarves seemed to have filled Erebor in that little time, but there was nothing pleasant about them. Passing by a few dwarves, some regarded him with disgust and others with fear. The anxiety returned. Kíli rushed to the bedroom, relieved when he did not find Nrar in there. 

The room was in a state of mess. The area over which Nrar had taken him (Kíli still refused the word ‘rape’ to enter his thoughts) was spotted with dried blood. The drawers were yanked out, their contents rummaged through, and haphazardly returned. Bits of clothes and jewelry still stuck out. As Kíli wondered about this, he undressed, glad for a chance to finally replace the clothes with something not yet torn. He stood naked before the wardrobe, which seemed to be steadily shrinking each time Nrar ripped one of his robes apart.

As Kíli was deciding on which robe to wear next, hands clasped him on the hips. 

Kíli gave a yelp. He had not heard anyone enter. 

“It is only I,” Nrar’s smooth voice whispered in his ear. Kíli grabbed a robe at random and spun around, covering his frame. There was no emotion in Nrar’s face save for vague curiosity as he moved aside the robe, studying Kíli’s bruises. 

“I wondered where you went yesterday,” he said, pressing Kíli lightly against the wardrobe. 

“I was bleeding,” Kíli said, and he told Nrar everything as Varis had taught him. He wished his heart would stop pounding in fear of it giving himself away, but Nrar found the story acceptable for now. 

“You did not think to have me know, your own regent and bond-mate?” 

“I apologize, love,” Kíli said. “I did not have the chance. The healer ordered me to rest.” 

Nrar snorted, but he said nothing more. He let his hands roam freely over Kíli’s body, exploring every curve, brushing against one nipple, kneading his buttocks. “And what more did you tell him?” His grip tightened as a threat. 

“Nothing,” Kíli said, his heart’s pace growing rapid. “Just that I was bleeding. The healer just examined me and gave me a cure.” 

Nrar nodded, but he did not back away. He studied Kíli for moments longer before moving in for a kiss. His hands continued to fondle Kíli, who gasped into the kiss. Nrar had never shown any kind of passion towards Kíli in this manner; it was almost as if he was concerned for Kíli’s own enjoyment. Kíli wasn’t sure if he much preferred it this way, but he knew fighting Nrar back would only make matters worse. But he was terrified of bleeding profusely again. His body was healing fast, Varis had reported to him, but he didn’t want to risk rupture again. 

Nrar pulled him away from the wardrobe and to the bed. Kíli wanted to ask him if he could lubricate him this time, hoping this sudden change meant that Nrar would be easier on him, but he could not find the words. Nrar was caressing every sensitive spot. It wasn’t right; Kíli hated being touched in this way, especially with Nrar’s hands, still gloved which only added to the discomfort. Bile boiled in his stomach, and he fought the urge to vomit. 

Again he tried to gently get Nrar off him, but then another gasp escaped him as a finger slid inside. 

“What are you doing?” his mind screamed. Nrar grinned at the sight of Kíli’s wide eyes. 

“Different for you, is this?” he said. “You’re finding this enjoyable.” 

It wasn’t enjoyable, Kíli wanted to say. But his body was betraying him, responding to Nrar’s prodding, but his mind was screaming with revulsion. The horror and disgust was too much for him to endure this. But an idea came to him then, and he willed his body to relax, deciding to force himself to accept whatever pleasure Nrar was going to give him. While holding back bile he let his body respond, focusing on every touch, almost begging Nrar to make him climax for the first time. 

When it was over, Kíli lay trembling in tears while trying to convince himself that this time it was not rape. Nrar, his face glowing with satisfaction, rested with a smug smile next to Kíli. He brought one arm over Kíli’s waist, his fingers digging into Kíli’s hip. 

“You are so beautiful,” Nrar said softly. “I did not think I would ever come to enjoy your presence from the first few months that I knew you.” 

Kíli gave him a strained smile. Nrar kissed him again. 

“But you have this something which draws me in. I was worried what sort of dwarf I was marrying who enjoyed the company of dolls and crying at every moment. But I see no dolls around you now. I have hope for you yet.” 

Kíli’s eyes darted to the drawer where the old doll was kept, the same one he had spoken his inner name to. 

“Do you remember our wedding, Kíli?” Nrar said softly. “We spoke our true names into the block, but neither of us must have heard the other, am I correct?” 

Kíli nodded. 

“After all our time together, I see no reason for us to stay ignorant. I say we’ve both become much closer. Don’t you agree?” 

Kíli remained silent. 

Nrar gave a light laugh. “I confess I went searching for your room for any object you may have marked with your inner name. But I found nothing which could possibly hold your name, not even the Arkenstone which you had not worn since your coronation.” 

Kíi’s heart leapt to his throat, but again he said nothing. 

“But that does not matter. What is your inner name, my love? I am dying to know.” 

Kíli did not move. Nrar had his arm wrapped around him, ready to crush him should he attempt to escape. Kíli thought of lying or just refusing to speak. Keeping the inner name secret was such a serious, private matter. He did not trust Nrar with his name then, and he still didn’t now. But perhaps Nrar was truly beginning to love him, and Kíli was just being stubborn. Didn’t his bond-mate deserve to know? Weren’t they meant to know? But then why had Nrar not let Kíli hear _his_ name? 

“I…my name…” 

A loud crash shook them both out of the situation. That was when Kíli realized the door to their bedchamber had been open this entire time. He glanced up in time to see the hem of Janur’s dress disappear; she was too quick for Nrar, who threw on a robe and rushed to see what caused the commotion. As his shouts carried throughout the royal chambers, Kíli nervously eyed the place where he had left the old doll. 

He was so close to revealing his inner name.

* * *

“I want you to have this,” Kíli said, opening the flap of his satchel to show Bofur its contents.

“Oh, what is this?” he grinned, opening his palms to accept the small doll. It was well loved by many children by the look of it. “This is darling, Kíli.” 

“I found it underneath a bunch of my great grandparents’ belongings,” Kíli explained. “I don’t know if it belonged to my mother or who else, but I said my inner name to it.”

“You marked it?” Bofur grinned. “Fabulous choice, Kíli!” 

“I want you to protect it in your home,” Kíli said hurriedly. “Don’t let anyone find it.” 

The smile disappeared. “Is something the matter?” 

Kíli hesitated. He had come for Bofur with the intent of telling him, but the sudden realization of the truth momentarily frightened him. He must have been dreaming up the whole situation with Nrar. 

Before he could stop himself, he lied. “You can extract the inner name from within objects, is that right?” 

“Well, yes-”

“I’m worried one of the servants was looking for my inner name to cause mischief,” Kíli said, hating himself for lying and that Bofur believed every word he said. He wanted to take the words back, to tell Bofur of how the name-bonding had been botched up, of how Nrar was now always asking him for his inner name (and flogging him when he didn’t speak.) He would have spoken about Nrar’s true treatment of him, as horrifying as it would undoubtedly be for Bofur. And he wanted Bofur to finally reveal to him his own mistrust of the dwarf during all this time and for the two to work on getting rid of Nrar. 

But none of this took place. 

“Do you have any idea who was snooping in your room?” Bofur asked. 

Kíli shrugged. Bofur studied the doll again in his hands. 

“Please protect it,” Kíli said. “I suspect my ancestors have marked their names in it as well.” They were bound to have said their names in other objects, but the inner names could only be retracted while one of the dwarf-markers still lived. 

Bofur nodded. “What of the other dolls? Have you marked them as well?” 

“I would have eventually,” Kíli said. “But Nrar made me throw them out.” 

“No!” 

Kíli flinched at the shocked, wide-eyed look in Bofur’s face. 

“Why?” 

“Nrar said I’m behaving too much like a child. He destroyed them for me and then told me to throw out the pieces. I deserved it. I needed to grow up.” 

“But Kíli, toys are not just for children!” Bofur said, smiling sadly. “Their presence brings joy in every room!” 

Kíli just shrugged again. 

“I put so much love in making them, especially yours.” 

Kíli fought back tears, wishing Bofur would just stop. “I’m sorry.” 

He made to leave, but Bofur called out for him again. Kíli bit his lip. He really didn’t want to face Bofur again. After all the love, support, and affection Bofur had shown him since their first meeting, Nrar’s own treatment of Kíli only left him more confused and sad. And yet he could not part from Nrar. He wanted to be cherished, Kíli realized, and he wanted Nrar with all his greatness to validate his worth. But Varis’s words also haunted him. He only recently began to get any sort of enjoyment from their intimacies. If he felt pleasure, that then meant he was not raped; that was how Kíli understood it. But no matter what he got out of their moments together Kíli was only feeling worse and sick, like deep down he knew this train of thought was very wrong. 

Kíli wished things weren’t so complicated while his mind was in such fragile state. He felt another outburst about to come out of him, but he kept his emotions controlled as he turned back around to face Bofur. He hated himself for even wanting to run away from Bofur. All of his actions were genuine. His eyes, so warm, brought Kíli so much comfort. He could trust Bofur with his deepest secrets, except he was keeping so much from him, and he was especially terrified of saying that one word aloud. It was not happening to him, Kíli insisted to himself. 

“Yes?” he said. 

“I was thinking, if you wanted another means of healing your mind, I can help,” Bofur said. “I understand you might not want more advice from us after what happened, but I remembered something else the other evening while watching you and Minyu. It reminded me of a method the dwarves have. Not often used, and usually only children do this but Bifur had once done it for me during a dark period. It is by no means medicine, but…”

“No,” Kíli said, his own smile now sad. “I trust you. But I will think about it.” Truth was, he was uncertain how often he could get away with meeting Bofur. Nrar would never approve of it. 

And he left, while Bofur stood watching him with concern.

* * *

Nrar’s treatment of Kíli changed in its nature throughout the following few months. Kíli should have been thrilled, to be treated with the most tenderness than ever before by Nrar, but they did not stop his lashings. Kíli knew it was because he disappointed Nrar somehow; he deserved them, and after each beating he tried harder in pleasing Nrar. After seeing how sweet and beautiful Nrar could be, Kíli feared his darker side and did all he could to keep Nrar happy. He went as far as willing to go on his knees to suck Nrar off, no matter if they were in the dining room where the waiters could easily walk in. None of the new dwarves filling Erebor seemed to like him much anyway. The place, though far busier and fuller than before, always felt empty without Balin, Dwalin, and Dolla.

Nrar’s obsession of Kíli was growing each day. Kíli wished it was truly love, hoping that his situation would turn. But nothing made Nrar happy. He hated Kíli being out of his sight, and if he was gone for a long time, such as any visits to his friends, Nrar would weasel it out of him and then flog him until he almost passed out. 

But no matter what Nrar did, Kíli could not give what Nrar most desired from him. Somewhere in Kíli’s mind was a constant warning to keep his mouth closed tight whenever the subject of his name was brought up. One time Kíli asked Nrar for his inner name, just to test the situation, and was beaten with Nrar’s belt again so badly that he was almost certain his brain bled. Fortunately for Kíli, his body had healed from the incident back in September with the klamath weed, yet a part of him always wished he could bleed more. It would have been more satisfying. Whenever he thought things were getting better between him and Nrar, he always ended up ruining everything. 

The anniversary of Thorin and Fíli’s funeral saw Kíli, not at their tombs, but outside of Erebor, wishing Nrar well on his journey. 

“Are you certain leaving so late in the year is a good idea?” Kíli asked. Nrar kissed him, both unaware of Bofur who stood far away watching the parting, studying them with a frown. 

“I prefer to travel when the roads are uncluttered,” Nrar said. “I hope you will find running this kingdom alone again bearable. I did everything before this day. You need not do much.” 

Kíli nodded. “I will try my best not to fail you, love.” 

Nrar chuckled. “I will make certain of that. Do not fail me or you will be shamed before the entire kingdom.” 

Kíli winced. “I promise.” 

After Nrar’s party were well away, Kíli turned back to the mountain dejectedly. He passed by Bofur without seeing him.

* * *

Glori made her way back to her home. She had taken over for Bofur, who wanted to be among the crowd seeing off Nrar and his men. She didn’t know for what reason he wanted to go see off a leader he only grudgingly accepted as his acting king when Kíli tried to convince everyone of Nrar’s greatness.

Kíli. The lad was bothering her more and more. Glori seldom spoke with him, but their paths had crossed a handful of times, and every time she caught sight of him she was disturbed further by his appearance. His health was deteriorating, his eyes sunken in and his skin deathly pale. But he always acted as though nothing was amiss in his life. Perhaps it was just out of being polite. After all, he barely knew Glori, so perhaps his words were much different to Bofur. But there was still something which bothered her. 

It was Nrar. That much was obvious. She had her fair share of husbands in the past; many husbands, in fact, which others may deem as strange for a dwarf to have. For this some had shunned her, but she was liked well enough in her small community back in the Blue Mountains. She would not have even come to Erebor had her sons not been so engrossed in the quest and begged her to join them. 

The door to her home stood ajar. Glori furrowed her eyebrows. She was sure she locked it before leaving. Ori was the only one of her sons who lived with her, as he had given a good portion of his riches to her out of love, and she repaid him by offering he stay with her. But Ori could not have forgotten to lock the door. She always reminded him in the mornings. 

She reached under into her coat pocket and wrapped her fingers around the small knife she carried around with her. Just a small habit she had picked up after her experience with Ori’s father. 

Her eyes scanned the house. Nothing was out of place, no chest left opened nor any trinket moved from its place. She took a step closer inside. All was silent.

There was a sudden hustle, muffled, coming from the rooms beyond. She whipped towards the hall, and her heart almost stopped. Since her arrival she had not seen him, her middle child. She had begun to wonder if Dori and Ori were lying to her, that her Nori was dead. But there he stood, his long hair held up in that frivolous manner. He was dressed plainly, as he always had before running away. He always stole something from Glori. In recent years she had vowed to have a long talk with him about his most recent steal from her. It was a heirloom from her grandmother, forged in the mountains of the Ironfists in lower Khand. 

They stared at each other for several long moments, both startled, Glori filled with a mix of rage and love, before Nori bolted out of her house without a single word. She called out angrily after him, but he was already out of sight. Cursing under her breath, Glori closed her door, confused and angry. Nori was now among the richest of the dwarves. Why was he, in all his arrogance, going around dressed so simply like a common thief? And without stealing anything (that Glori could see so far) form her house? That was very strange. 

And most of all, how rude was he to leave without even speaking with her, his own mother! 

She lit a candle and stopped in her tracks. 

“Who else is there?” she called out. 

Tentatively a figure emerged from the shadows in the same hall Nori had run out from. The dwarf played with the string of her blouse nervously. 

“One of Bombur’s spawn,” Glori mumbled to herself as she approached the dwarf. “Aprir, is it? And what exactly were you doing with my son back there?” 

Aprir noticed where she was touching and released the strings. “It’s not what it appears, my lady.” 

Glori folded her arms. “So what were you doing?” 

Aprir sighed. “I gave him a slip of paper with information.” 

“About what?” 

“How to take down the regent.”

* * *

Kíli hated Erebor more than ever. He was oddly relieved to have Nrar away from him for many months, to give himself time to understand all the conflicting emotions in his heart. But he also hated being alone. The entire royal halls were filled with dwarves who either paid him no attention or silently watched him from afar with leers. No work was expected from him, but the dwarves were still upset if they caught him leaving the royal halls. It frustrated Kíli. The kingdom was functioning well without him; what good was he wasting away here?

With nothing to occupy his mind, Kíli’s thoughts always turned back to Nrar. His actions towards him had become more favorable, but there was always something missing. Kíli had wished to disprove Varis’s warning about Nrar’s treatment, but even now, months later, he was still confused. He was finding pleasure in the act now, even if pain was always mingled with it, but the pleasure was never anything like Nrar’s enjoyment. Kíli wondered if it was just him, or perhaps under the hands of another he would feel greater pleasure. 

He was never a dwarf obsessed with such thoughts before, but now he thought of it constantly. After having gotten a taste of what it could be like, he wondered how he could gain greater pleasure. The thought possessed him in the night, imagining himself crying out with utter satisfaction the same way as Nrar had. He would have been alarmed at his own behavior, had there been anything else to occupy his mind with. But with nearly everything striped from his bed chambers and no other friend to keep him company, there was only one thing his mind could turn to. 

The servants around him often paid him no attention. Janur did not speak with him, though she did give him a brief smile shortly after the incident when she distracted Nrar. Kíli never had a chance to thank her, and during Nrar’s absence his mind was instead set on someone else, forgetting Janur’s deeds completely. 

One of the servants who cleaned about the chambers was named Lofar. He was among the younger dwarves, around or perhaps even younger than Kíli. Kíli never recalled hearing the dwarf ever converse with anyone, but he was polite to Kíli whereas the others treated him as something untouchable. 

Lofar was his target then. Kíli spent several days studying the dwarf from afar before finally gathering the courage to request the dwarf to his chambers on account of cleaning up a mess he had left. Lofar nodded and bowed low politely before finishing his current task. Kíli waited for him on the bed. 

Lofar entered after some time, humming lightly to himself. Kíli greeted him cheerfully and requested he shut the door, which Lofar did without a second thought. He bowed low and greeted Kíli with utmost respect, more than the other servants had ever shown. 

“What would you like me to do for you, my king?” he asked brightly, his voice so cheerful and sweet that Kíli felt awful for what he was about to do. Lofar looked about himself for any sign of mess as indication of his task. 

“Lofar, I called you for a very special reason,” Kíli began, unable to stop himself. Lofar turned his eyes back to Kíli with the same polite respect. “As you know my husband has been away for some time, and my bed is getting cold…” 

Lofar nodded, but understanding still had not come to him. He was perhaps thinking that Kíli wanted a hot water bottle to place beside him, for it was indeed a cold winter and the fires of the forges at times were not enough to make one sleep comfortably in this bed. This thought only made Kíli sicker, but he pushed himself forward. 

“Lofar, I would like for you to bed with me,” Kíli said, and Lofar’s eyes widened slightly, and what expression lay behind his brown beard Kíli could only guess. “Do you not love your king?” 

“I do, my king,” Lofar said uncertainly. 

“You offer so much of your service to me, can you not also offer yourself in body?” 

Lofar remained silent, struggling for a response. 

“Nrar won’t ever have to know.” 

“But…” 

“I need only your mouth and hands. I promise I will not touch you if you do not want it!” Kíli stood up. “I will not force you to do anything. I just need…”

Kíli hated himself for making Lofar feel so trapped. But his own selfish desires were taking hold of him. He took another step closer and Lofar stepped back, pressing himself against the door. 

“My king, please…” 

Something in his voice broke inside Kíli, shattering him out of whatever spell he had been under all this time. He suddenly saw himself in Lofar, so scared of Nrar hurting him. The love and respect were still in his eyes, mingled with the terror of what was to take place. 

“What are you doing?” Kíli asked himself. “What are you doing, fiend? You are no more different than Nrar!” 

He reached past Lofar, who flinched violently, and gripped the doorknob. He flung it open and stepped back. 

“I am very sorry,” Kíli said shakily to Lofar. “So sorry. Please forgive me.” 

Lofar scuttled away from the room with words of gratitude for being spared; his sobbing, relief and fear mingled together, could be heard down the hall. 

Bile rose in Kíli’s throat, and this time he was unable to hold it back. He ran for the chamberpot. 

“No better than Nrar,” he kept telling himself. “No better than Nrar. What were you _thinking_?” 

And the truth he had been denying for so long finally caught up to him. That one word he rejected so violently before. He saw the truth in Lofar’s eyes. It did not matter how involved Lofar would have been had they bedded together. It did not matter if Kíli was gentle and kind to Lofar. It was wrong, plain and simple. Lofar never wanted it. Even if he finally gave in he would have been only cooperating with Kíli, not consenting. 

And that was Kíli all this time. It did not matter that he allowed Nrar to take him. It did not matter if they were married. It did not matter whether he felt nothing save for pain or reached climax: he never asked for Nrar to take him in such manner. There was never consent, even if Kíli cooperated, even if he sought pleasure himself. His body never welcomed such idea. It was all forced upon him. 

And this same terror Kíli brought upon another dwarf. Lofar was too kind, always polite to him, and Kíli took advantage of it. He deserved none of this. 

Kíli wept and cursed himself and wished for the worst fates to befall him. The thought of running out to the throne room and throwing himself over the walkway was suddenly more alluring than ever. He fought with himself to remain calm, to not do anything out of impulse. Instead he pinched himself all over his arms and tugged at his hair and pounded his fist against his head till he was satisfied with the physical pain. The self-loathing didn’t cease, and the thought of a quick painful death called to him still. 

Kíli got to his feet. Outside the halls seemed relatively calm, as though a rape had not just been averted. As he passed a few servants, he heard them whispering among themselves. 

“Lofar just told me he was quitting and leaving Erebor. Can you believe that?” 

“Did he now? He never seemed dissatisfied with the work here.” 

“Such a pity. I always hear him singing to himself. Always sweet, that one.” 

“Maybe it’s for good reason.” 

Their words followed Kíli to the edge of the walkway. No one stopped to look at him. The kingdom was running perfectly well without him. None called out to him as he lifted his foot and leaned forward. The fires of the forges down below caught his eye, their flame welcoming but not for the reason Kíli had wanted to see them. 

Remembering what lay near them, he leaned back, his feet on solid ground. He left the throne room without meeting any resistance from the guards. He made his way down to the lower levels, down, down and through many lanes and streets, the labyrinth that made up the ground level of the great mountain. 

He passed the forges, past the crippling heat, and entered the golden hall. He strolled past Glori, who must have called out to him but he wasn’t certain. His mind was set on one thing only. 

The sight of the office brought him so much comfort. He did not stop until he was inside, and without speaking a single word he made a beeline for Bofur, who sat at his desk pouring over some papers, and embraced him tightly just as the tears spilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lofar is a dwarf who was originally written in Lord of the Rings as one of Bilbo's servants, but he along with other dwarves didn't make it to later manuscripts.


	8. Fix Me

Kíli told Bofur everything that happened between him and Lofar, his face still streaked with tears. He felt his life had spiraled completely out of control, having hit its lowest point. The self-disgust, meanwhile, was at its highest. Kíli hated himself enough to blame the rape and abuse on himself only. Seeing what he almost did to Lofar only made the hate greater. 

Bofur sat and listened without a single word, though his eyes were wide in shock. Kíli was certain that now, if ever, Bofur would hate him. Bofur _had_ to hate him, Kíli thought. He did not deserve any more chances after this. But maybe, as Kíli hoped deep down, Bofur would show him sympathy. That he would take him into his arms and comfort him from all the agony he’s endure in the past year, as he had done before when Kíli had his bleeding emergency, that Bofur will make it better, that their next meeting would be filled with the laughter as in the old days. 

But Bofur showed no other emotion. After Kíli poured his heart out he buried his face in his hands, sobbing still. The tears never seemed to cease. He waited for an embrace, a comforting word, but nothing came. 

“Why, Kíli?” was all Bofur said. 

Kíli almost didn’t hear him. He looked up to study Bofur’s face again. He hadn’t moved from his place, though he was still studying Kíli with wide eyes. In reply to Bofur’s question, Kíli could only give a shrug. 

“Why?” Bofur asked again. “Why would you do something to hurt Nrar?” 

Kíli bit his lower lip, realizing his mistake. He confessed everything having to do with what he almost did, but he spoke nothing of Nrar’s own rape to him. He ruefully realized what his story must sound like without this piece of information. And he really wanted to tell Bofur, but he could not find it in him to dishonor Nrar. At least Kíli deserved it. Lofar never deserved any pain. 

What to tell Bofur? While a part of him yearned to tell the truth, another simply could not. He opted for half-truths, a trick Varis had taught him. 

“I never climax when I’m with Nrar,” Kíli said. “I didn’t hear about such a thing till recently, and I wanted to experience that. But by then Nrar left and I’ve been obsessed with the thought of it. I got greedy and desperate and went after one of my servants. I shouldn’t have hurt another.” 

“No, you shouldn’t,” Bofur agreed, and Kíli flinched at the hardness in Bofur’s voice. His half-truth did no favors for himself. “You shouldn’t. I’m surprised and disappointed that you did this, Kíli. I never thought you would…” He shook his head. “But you stopped. You did not carry it out. That’s one small relief, but that doesn’t change what you’ve planned.” 

Kíli cringed. He had hoped Bofur would understand, that he would comfort him. But perhaps Bofur just finally seeing Kíli’s own filth. The thought of it made his shoulders slump in defeat. 

“I heard soon after that the dwarf was leaving Erebor,” Kíli said. 

“And who would blame him? You created an environment he never will find safe again.” 

Kíli never thought of it that way, and it only made the guilt and disgust worse. He wept, but Bofur did not move to embrace him. He was left to suffer alone before someone he thought of as a friend. 

But did he not deserve it, he told himself. Still he had hoped Bofur would comfort him, but Bofur just stood there watching him. The absence of arms when he most needed them - the isolation was unbearable. He wanted to scream for Bofur to hold him, that this was hurting him too much. 

“Bofur - please!” Kíli whimpered. “Please…I’m sorry…” 

But Bofur did not move from his spot. He shook his head, too baffled to move. “Kíli…that could have been Janur or Febar. That could have been any of my brother’s children.” 

Kíli jumped to his feet, his mouth agape with horror. “Are you saying…I am…I would never…I’m not a rapist!” 

“But the servant, then why force him into a situation he never wanted, and behind your bond-mate’s back?” 

Kíli was at a loss for words. If only Bofur knew, but Kíli could not find it in himself to argue any longer. The massive mess composed of tangled web of lies were all crafted by Kíli himself. Had he not pretended he was in love with Nrar? Had he not harped about how wonderful Nrar was while nursing a new bruise? Had he not just proclaimed having almost raped another despite suffering the same fate nearly every week since his cursed wedding? 

Kíli let out a small wail. Bofur still did not move, but Kíli could not blame him. He must have appeared as an unstable monster to him then; the silver of coldness in Bofur’s eyes, which never was there before whenever Bofur looked at him, was now the final hint Kíli needed to know that his friendship with Bofur was now ended. 

He gave another whimpered “I’m sorry” before storming out, wishing he had jumped off the pathway after all.

* * *

It was a while before Bofur finally sat back down at his desk. But he did not pick up the quill he had been writing with before Kíli barged in. The shock and the bile threatening to spill out was slowly ebbing away. He could not stop thinking of Kíli, not as his friend and King of the Lonely Mountain, but as some strange man he had brought into his own house among the many children Bofur protected as though they were his own. It was his first thought to protect his nieces and nephews, and in retrospect that perhaps made him colder than he intended to towards Kíli. But no, he had to be cold. There was no excuse for what Kíli had done. Kíli’s victim could have been anyone. And Bofur always thought only good of Kíli. Hadn’t he even slept in little Septi’s bed?

Bofur shuddered at the thought. He never could imagine Kíli, of all the people he knew, would ever be capable of such acts. Now he wondered what other sort of dark thoughts swam in Kíli’s mind. It wasn’t like him at all. 

No, it wasn’t Kíli, Bofur told himself. It simply wasn’t like Kíli to coerce another. How often had he heard Kíli proclaim that he had neither physical desire nor wish to ever marry? Kíli, who would make light of any injury he got, who’d always bounce back from any pitfall? The Kíli he knew before the coronation has changed so much. 

It was the illness for certain, but there was something else. As the silence in the room grew, Bofur’s mind turned to contemplating on Kíli’s behavior in the past year. He always passed off any oddities due to Kíli’s illness, but there was definitely something amiss. The bruises, for one thing. Even in his state, could Kíli inflict wounds that would make half his face bleed and bruise? 

But he was taking medicines that interacted, Bofur reminded himself. The bleeding was because of the thin blood. But that still didn’t answer for everything. 

And there was the matter of Kíli’s heart. Bofur knew that a dwarf who never intended to find love could still fall in love if they met their one. These matters can change, but Kíli’s own change of heart was completely out of nowhere. He was certain Kíli intended for himself and Nrar to be in separate rooms, but he recalled Balin had mentioned once that from the very beginning Nrar slept in the same room as Kíli… 

Bofur’s eyebrows furrowed and he frowned; his heart paced quicker. The shared bedroom, the appearance of cuts and bruises soon after, the sudden praises of Nrar, the long periods of disappearances, with each reunion revealing a sicker Kíli, the bleeding incident, and now Kíli’s most recent behavior… All these small pieces were starting to fit together, and Bofur did not like the image they were forming. A sick feeling rested in his stomach at the thought of what all this implied. Had all of this been happening and he simply had not noticed? Was his attention focused all solely on Kíli’s illness that everything could be blamed on it, when another reason, the true reason, was under their noses all this time? 

But most of all which disturbed him, surely if anything was going on the others in the royal chambers would have taken notice? 

“Something ails you?” 

Bofur looked up to meet Glori, who studied him by the doorway.

“I’m afraid I’ve cast out someone from my life who needed my help,” Bofur said. 

“Kíli,” Glori said simply. “He passed me on his way here.” 

“Did he tell you anything?” 

“No, but he’s carrying secrets that your brother’s spawn seem to know but are not telling.” 

Bofur jumped to his feet. “How do you know?” 

“I caught Aprir and my son Nori having a little meeting at my place, of course visiting without my invitation, and without Nori even telling me a simple greeting,” Glori said. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her before approaching Bofur. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “It seems they are plotting to kill the regent.” 

Bofur gasped. “If Bombur hears this, she will never leave the house again!” 

“Though I do no blame her,” Glori said. “Nrar is one of the foulest leaders I have ever lived under. From what I hear, his punishments are harsh for even the smallest of mistakes. But that is not why Aprir sent Nori. Not because of them.” 

“What for then?” 

“She would not tell me any more, not after I tried to get her to talk by giving her all of the sweets in my house,” Glori said. “She told me that saying anything would violate Kíli’s privacy, but that is enough information for me. If Kíli’s privacy is an issue, then the matter is not merely Nrar’s inept leadership. It’s something happening between Kíli and Nrar. It would make sense, then, wouldn’t it? Where would Aprir know other than hearing stories from Janur and Febar?” 

Bofur processed her words carefully, seeing her point. “I’ve been thinking the same thing just now, after speaking with him. There’s something that has been going on that is being kept under cover, and anyone who knows isn’t speaking.” 

“They are afraid, certainly,” Glori said. “And Kíli most of all.” 

“But he has friends!” 

“And seeing your head on a spike is probably not something Kíli could live with! Nrar’s wrath isn’t worth it. That’s how Kíli sees it. And I do not think we should make a ruckus out of this, not yet at least. For one thing, although all of our clues are pointing to the same source, we do not have conclusive information. Also, Nrar’s forces in here are beyond our strengths; he would unleash a kin-slaying if he could, though our kind has never laid a hand on another like that. Every new group that comes in seem less and less dwarf-like and more like wraiths if you ask me. Anyhow, we just need to be sure for now that Kíli remains safe.” 

Bofur bit his lip. “And I was harsh with him just now…” 

“Go find him. He was traveling northbound when I saw him leave.” 

Of course. Running to the father figure. “I have a good idea where he’s going then,” Bofur said. “And…may I ask something?” 

“Go ahead.” 

It was a thought Bofur hung onto stubbornly in denial of this recent turn of events. “Dwarves do not harm other dwarves. We do not bend to the will of Morgoth, nor have we ever slain kin, and nor have we ever taken another by force. But then, can wickedness still enter the dwarven heart?” 

“Of course!” Glori said. “You know the story of the Seven Dwarf Rings. And let me tell you from my own experience, after my failed marriages, I have learned that one does not have to be a spawn of Morgoth to commit evil acts.” She headed back to the door, swinging it open and stepping aside. “Go to him, Bofur.”

* * *

Bifur was having a hell of a time trying to get Kíli to calm down. The lad had barged in suddenly, blubbering and screaming at Bifur to kill him. He took one of the whittling knives from Bifur’s worktable and almost did the deed himself had Bifur not hoisted him up and away from the table and dragged him into the furtherest back room where toy supplies lined the walls.

He kept calling out to Kíli, asking him what the matter was or just begging Kíli to look at him, but the lad had gone completely mad. Trying to comfort Kíli earned Bifur a lashing, so he wrestled Kíli to the ground, pining him the way he had to several fellow warriors in the past who were also driven to madness. When doing that didn’t work, Bifur got to his feet and pulled off a table cloth. He wrapped it around Kíli as though he were an infant. The slight compression was soothing to the dwarf, who finally ceased his heavy tears and fell silent. 

“What happened?” Bifur wondered with a heavy heart as he studied Kíli on the floor. More than a year had passed since Kíli’s depression settled in. Bifur was no medic, but he thought the illness would be more manageable by now. Kíli had a bond-mate who he seemed to love deeply from the way Kíli spoke of him (though Bifur reserved his judgement on the guy, only for Kíli’s sake.) Though Balin, Dolla, and Dwalin were driven out, many of Kíli’s other friends remained behind. Kíli visited Bifur whenever he could, so Bifur assumed he must have visited others. And even with the treatment Bifur had recommended for him, time itself heals all wounds; he would have thought that a year later Kíli would be better able to handle his uncle and brother’s deaths. 

But something wasn’t right. Kíli either must not have been taking the medicine or something else was going on. Bifur didn’t fail to notice the way Kíli behaved in the past several months, laughing and crying within minutes, talking endlessly but saying very little. Bifur never bothered to ask, believing that Kíli will get better. He knew how to battle whatever evils were about him; Kíli was a strong lad. 

_Was_ a strong lad. Bifur knew Kíli since he was a small child. He was always fascinated by Bifur, who had become Kíli’s friend and mentor. The two friends often sparred in their battle training. Bifur was well acquainted with Kíli’s physical strength, but today it was missing. 

A tiny gasp made Bifur turn around. He half-expected it was one of the unfortunate costumers who were there when Kíli came in, but it was Bofur. Wide-eyed, he studied Kíli’s unmoving form. 

“He isn’t dead,” Bifur said. “There can be only one reason why you’ve come here - care to explain what’s going on?” 

Bofur opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, but nothing came out. Kíli stirred behind Bifur. Still wrapped in the tablecloth, Kíli turned around to face Bofur, his eyes large and full of fear. He shook his head, begging. 

“Kíli?” Bifur crouched next to him. “What is going on?” 

“I…” Kíli glanced back at Bofur, then to Bifur again. He struggled for words before dissolving into tears again. Bifur waited, but Kíli would not speak. 

Jumping to his feet, Bifur rounded on Bofur. “What is going on here?” 

“Bifur…” Bofur began. 

“Don’t tell him!” Kíli shrieked. “I cannot lose his friendship too!” 

“Tell me what? Why lose my friendship?” 

“Because I am disgusting and vile!” Kíli wept. 

Bifur silently asked Bofur a question that he could not answer. 

“I cannot go back up there.” 

“Where, to the throne room?” Bifur asked. 

Kíli nodded. “I am not fit for it. I’ve done something so awful.” 

“Then go ahead and cry about it, but when you are done, go back,” Bifur said. “The crown is yours still, and I will be damned before I see another take the crown away from you!” 

“I cannot go back!” Kíli whined. “Not once t-t-they find out.” 

“About your deed? You are king! To the Balrog’s fire what they think!” 

“But I shamed everyone! I hurt a servant and I dishonored Nrar!” 

Bifur had to keep taking breaths. The lack of information was enraging him. He respected that Kíli wanted to keep some things private, but it didn’t help that he could make head nor tail of Kíli’s woe. “Kíli, you are king. Whatever you did, they cannot harm you. If Nrar’s getting hurt, then that’s his problem with you, not theirs.” 

“No, no! You do not understand!” 

“Kíli, there is nothing they can-”

Kíli stared at him, the tears not stopping, before mumbling ruefully, “I will be raped again.” 

A loud pained gasp escaped from Bofur’s lips. Bifur turned to see his cousin, eyes glimmering with tears, fighting not to collapse. He gripped Bofur’s shoulders. “Leave,” he said in a whisper. “If there happens to be any customers left, tell them the shop is closed for the day.” Bofur nodded, his face pale, before leaving him to Kíli. 

Bifur sat next to Kíli and helped him out of the table cloth. Out of shame, the lad had his face covered in his hands, weeping silently. His shoulders shook. There was so much fear in him. As Bifur raised a hand, he realized he was shaking as well, though from grief or shock or anger he wasn’t certain yet. But his own emotions mattered little right now. 

“Kíli, who’s been hurting you?” Bifur asked, his voice low. “Is it Nrar?” 

Kíli gave a chocked sob. “No, not Nrar…Nrar loves me. H-h-he’s just…rough. He doesn’t like mistakes, you know how he’s like. If I make a mistake, he…he has others punish me, but he doesn’t know what type of punishment they do.” 

“The servants?” Bifur leaned back. Something in the story didn’t seem right to him. What sort of dwarves would turn against their king in this fashion, and without the regent ever hearing word of this? He would have declared Kíli’s story hogwash and insisted it was Nrar. Nrar who had no shame in publicly humiliating an elderly dwarf before his court. But Nrar had been away from the kingdom for at least a month and Kíli was just now panicking. There was also the strange matter of dwarves behaving in this manner. They were the only race to never have known to slay their own kin, and rape was as good as kinslaying. A feared and revolted crime; why would dwarves, and many of them if he went by Kíli’s story, commit it? 

Again, Bifur pushed the thoughts away. Kíli’s agony was the most important thing right now. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone before?” Bifur rested his hands on Kíli’s, who did not flinch or move away. He shyly gripped around Bifur’s hands as though he were an infant, welcoming the contact. 

“I thought I deserved it,” Kíli said quietly. “I make so many mistakes and was punished for them, so I thought I deserved it.” 

“We all make mistakes,” Bifur said. “They don’t matter in the end, and nothing what you did deserves the kind of treatment you received.” 

“But what…they…did to me I tried to do to one of them, just now,” Kíli said. 

Bifur raised an eyebrow. Kíli took note of his stunned silence and lowered his head, weeping. 

“Kíli…if the servant tells what you had done, you may be exiled as king.” Bifur did not know any way to put that into kinder terms, and as he expected that only made Kíli’s grief worse. 

“Bofur hates me now,” Kíli wailed. “I’m just as bad as h-them.” 

Bifur shook his head. “Shocked, more like. We never thought you would think of doing that. This is a serious issue, Kíli.” 

“I didn’t see it that way,” Kíli said as he looked up again. “It didn’t occur to me until I saw how scared the servant was. He was among the nicer ones. He never laid a hand on me. I did such an awful thing.” 

“May I ask why did you do it?” 

Kíli gave his explanation, which Bifur considered as calmly as he could. “If you do not mind me saying this, this isn’t like you at all, Kíli.” 

“I know…I’ve been sick.” 

“I know that.” 

Bifur could not blame Bofur for how he felt after hearing this news, and he himself was shocked at Kíli’s behavior, but he knew there was a deeper layer beneath this. Kíli simply wasn’t acting himself any longer; and if he could only tap into that source and make it aright again, but he knew he could not do that unless if Kíli wanted his help.

“What of the klamath weed?” Bifur asked. “Have you been taking that?” 

“Ah…” Kíli told him then of the incident as well. 

“Explains why your condition hasn’t improved over time,” Bifur said, nodding. 

Kíli gave a deep sigh. “I hate not being normal.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with not being normal,” Bifur said. “What is normal, anyway?” 

Kíli gave a small smile and leaned into Bifur, who wrapped his arms around him. He let the lad cry silently in his arms, speaking only when Kíli was done.

“What would you like us to do for you, Kíli?” Bifur asked, his voice low but soothing. 

“FIx me,” Kíli said. “And forgive me. I never meant to hurt anyone.” 

“The damage has been done with the servant,” Bifur said firmly. “But we can try our best to help you. Are you ready to have Bofur back?” 

“Okay,” Kíli said uncertainly. 

“How much do you want me to tell him?” Bifur asked. 

Kíli’s eyes misted over. “Everything. I want him to know I’m not the bad guy.” 

Bifur nodded and left the room. The shop was unsurprisingly deserted. Bofur stood around idly, his mind distracted and his usual smile absent. Bifur said as much as he knew Kíli would be comfortable with, leaving out any of his own thoughts on Kíli’s story. Unlike him, Bofur seemed to swallow Kíli’s tale more readily. 

“My poor gullible cousin,” Bifur thought. But even with the story, Bofur still looked shaky. Bifur did not blame him. He led Bofur back into the room. Kíli was still sitting in his place, his eyes wide and glassy. 

“Kíli?” he called out softly. 

The lad jumped and turned around to look at them blankly. Bifur motioned for Bofur to settle beside Kíli, and he shut the door behind him.

* * *

Lies. Kíli was astounded that anyone could still want to be with him with all his blatant lying. He wasn’t keeping track of them and wasn’t sure if how they fit together, but he was sure anyone clever would see through the inconsistencies.

He was sick of lying all the time. It had damaged his relationship with Bofur, and his most recent pack of lies were doing him no favors. But he could not explain why he just could not reveal Nrar as the real rapist. Perhaps he feared Nrar’s anger, or worse, Bifur’s anger. Blaming the servants would protect him in an odd way. Bifur could not go raging over all of them, though Kíli knew his friend would want to do that. But it would ultimately be a waste of time, and Bifur would be kicked out before getting the chance to punch the first dwarf. The only person who knew the full truth was the healer Varis, and Kíli had made him vow to never speak about it. 

He was surprised Bifur had not abandoned him or told him to leave after being told about Lofar, but there was also relief that someone was not treating him as a disgusting monster. After hearing about a possible expulsion, Kíli wasn’t sure if he wanted Lofar to reveal his crime or not. To be exiled would mean he’d never have to play this game again. He could go looking for an abandoned mountain or hill to live in alone with his own filth, or at least die in peace soon after being stripped away as king. 

“Kíli?” 

It was Bifur’s voice. Kíli hadn’t heard the door open. He kept falling into these spells, frozen in time with his dark thoughts. He was fantasizing of the various ways he could kill himself, each one more violent than the previous. But Bifur’s voice broke him out of that spell, and suddenly Kíli didn’t want to die painfully. He wanted to be in Bifur’s arms, protected and cured from his ailment. 

He saw Bofur standing next to Bifur, but Kíli did not say anything. A terrible pain gripped his heart. As much as he loved Bifur, there would be something big missing from his life if Bofur wasn’t part of it. The thought that Bofur despised him hurt more than anything, but why Kíli desired his friendship so much he couldn’t put into words. But he sensed that he hurt more than just Lofar with his mad lust. He may have known this family all his life but he didn’t know everything about them, and he briefly wondered if Bofur may also have suffered a hurt like his. 

He pushed the thought away in sudden fright, his mind briefly filled with the mental image of Nrar pinning Bofur down. Not Bofur!

* * *

Bofur was not as gullible as his cousin thought him. He had Glori’s story under his belt, and coupled with what Bifur told him, Bofur was putting the pieces together. Something still did not add up, though. The servants may or may not have been involved, but if they were it was in addition to one particular dwarf. Bofur had all the confession that he needed at this point. It was Nrar. Why else were Aprir and Nori plotting on killing him?

Bofur found it impossible to look into Kíli’s eyes. The confession still had its mark on him. He felt awful, about everything. Disgusted and outraged that Nrar was hurting Kíli all this time while Kíli kept silent and even sung him praise while putting down himself. Anger that his own nieces and nephews knew but were not speaking. Even Kíli’s own doing, though Bofur could not find it in himself to forgive Kíli as another dwarf out there now was homeless out of fear, he felt grief rather than anger now. Everything was a mess. None of this should be happening. 

But Bofur could not voice his own suspicions about Nrar. He wanted to shake it out of Kíli, to have him say it, but he knew better. Kíli had his reasons to keep silent. And there was Bifur, who would not remain quiet if he knew. Bofur, however, suspected that Bifur might know more than he was letting on. His cousin was older and wiser than he; surely he saw through Kíli’s lies? 

When Bofur thought Kíli wasn’t looking, he hazarded a peek. In that moment Kíli looked up as well and met his eyes, and Bofur felt his entire world collapse. There was no life left in Kíli eyes. Long gone was the carefree and reckless spirit, innocent of the nightmares of the world. Kíli had aged beyond recognition. The lad was broken entirely, the way he sat on the floor, the way his eyes just stared without looking at anything, his mind perhaps still filled with the vivid memories of Nrar hurting him. No one could ever think Kíli was their king from his appearance, that once there was a time he would laugh the loudest at Bofur’s jokes and sing and dance merrily, his cheeks rosy from ale. That there was once a time when Kíli was happy. 

Pity and love sprang up in Bofur’s heart, but with it was also mingled the silent horror. He reached out for Kíli’s hand then thought better of it. 

Bifur joined them on the floor. He noticed Bofur attempting to take Kíli’s hand, and he motioned for him to do it again. They both extended out their hands, and to Bofur’s great relief Kíli reached out for them both. His hand shyly touched Bofur’s. 

“We need to find another means in helping you,” Bifur said to Kíli, “and I have an idea. Would it be okay if I touched you, Kíli? On your head, neck and back. I won’t go below the ribcage.” 

Kíli nodded, his hand slipping away from Bofur’s, and turned around to give Bifur his back. His body was still trembling, and his eyes still misty. Bifur brought the heel of his hand up against Kíli’s lower neck and made a slow, circular motion. Once Kíli’s shoulders showed signs of relaxing, Bifur brought his other hand, working his way around Kíli’s shoulders and upper back. A soft humming sound emitted from Kíli as his head slumped forward. 

Bofur smiled sadly, remembering the time he brought Kíli to his house. “I had the same thought,” he said quietly as not to disturb the peace. “You used to do this to me when I was suffering.” 

Bifur nodded. He spoke without tearing his eyes away from Kíli. “It’s to help children mostly, but I do not see why we cannot heal adults this way. Some physical contact, or let them watch you work…it all gives the same effect in the end.” 

“I feel tingles spreading through my neck and head,” Kíli said softly. “And…spine too, just now.” 

“I am not surprised,” Bifur said, smiling. “You are creative, and that sort always experienced this differently.” 

Bofur smiled too, knowing what Bifur meant. For some dwarves, this went beyond just bringing relaxation. The activity cause this kind of physical sensation, these tingles, as though it were a relaxation of another kind, something for which no word yet existed for it in any language. The dwarves couldn’t understand it themselves after years of study, but its effects were well welcomed. Those who suffered from grief found that, in time, these experiences lessened their pain. If klamath weed had not worked and time was not proving to heal his wounds, then this was their last remaining chance. There was nothing in this world that was not malleable, Bofur thought. 

There was much that could be done to achieve this effect, from massages to whispering rhythmically in their ears. After some time, Bifur brought Bofur over after getting Kíli’s permission to have Bofur touch him. They threaded their fingers through Kíli’s hair, rubbing his scalp slowly, then as if each move was deliberate,, moving sections of Kíli’s hair to one side then another, letting the roots of his hair shift around till the same tingly effect spread through Kíli’s body. Bofur felt Kíli’s muscles under his hand already beginning to relax. 

When all was done, the cousins became aware that Kíli had fallen into deep slumber. Bifur and Bofur worked together to gently get Kíli lying down, covering him in whatever blankets they could find. 

“We’ll stay out here with him,” Bifur suggested, to which Bofur nodded in agreement and offered to get extra blankets from their home. 

“Should we take him home?” Bofur asked, thinking that the last thing he wanted was Kíli anywhere near the royal chambers. 

But Bifur shook his head. “The more time he spends away from the throne the less power he has. I know he has enemies, but he needs to be strong. For all we know, this abuse could be a means to throw him out of the throne.” 

Bofur nodded his understanding. Thinking of Nrar, that theory sounded very plausible. 

“I’m just worried he will be hurt again,” Bofur said. 

“We can help him,” Bifur said. “He will grow stronger in time, if he’s responding well to our actions already.” He smiled. “We’ll restore our king.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how late this chapter is! Working on it was a real struggle, perhaps more than the previous chapters. For one thing, although I had planned from the beginning the scene between Kíli and Lofar, it took on another direction when I was writing it. I also realized that Kíli's actions can't be ignored since he did hurt someone, and that just complicated things a little more. Unfortunately, this causes a rift between him and Bofur. :) 
> 
> As for what they are doing to Kíli at the end of the chapter and what Kíli is experiencing, it is ASMR (autonomous sensory meridian response.) It's a way of creating relaxation in someone, and it can be accompanied by a tingling and euphoric sensation around the head, neck, and back regions. (Youtube has a ton of videos about this!) Some theorizes that creatively-inclined people experience these tingles more, but there really haven't been much official studies on them or really explain this further. I personally do experience this when watching someone paint or if someone's playing with my hair. :) It's become my headcanon that dwarves utilize this a lot although they don't fully understand it themselves. As for whether ASMR can treat or cure depressions, that's pure speculation. 
> 
> Again, I apologize for the lateness! :)


	9. An Era of Sleep

The absence of Nrar had provided a much-needed refuge for Kíli. In the months that followed, Kíli continued his sessions with Bifur and Bofur, and occasionally Bombur joined them. They never tired, always ready to help him in any way even if they themselves were exhausted from the day’s work. 

They stuck with head massages in the beginning, often accompanying their touches with whispers uttered next to his ear. The whispers ranged anything from inaudible words whose only intent was to induce the tingles, or recitations of various prayers in their culture, or a soft whispered conversation. All had the same affect on Kíli. Hearing a friend’s voice, so close to his ear that he could feel the gust of air from their breath and feel their mustaches brush against his ear, it gave him such comfort that sleep came easy for him, and upon waking he felt more alert and refreshed. 

Perhaps Kíli’s favorite activity was him just resting against one of his friends as they whispered incoherently in his ear. Bifur was especially apt at this, as he had done this many times with Bofur in the past. He could lower his voice to a deep rumble that seemed to seep through Kíli’s body and vibrate his bone. He’d feel his own breath steading until it matched the whispers and Bifur’s own breathing. 

“Tok….tok….rôg… _rôg_ …rôg-rôg-rôg. Khazad-dûm…Kha….zad-dûm.” The words were utter nonsense, and clicks of the tongue or soft “sh-sh-sh” sounds would accompany them. But the way Bifur carried this out, in various speeds, certain syllabus stressed, together brought out the prickly sensation through Kíli neck and back. Bifur’s would go on until Kíli became aware of it no longer, having passed deep into a pleasant slumber. 

Over time he grew tolerant to the act, and the tingles ceased and no sleep came. It did not discourage Bifur and Bofur, who then explored other ways to bring the sensation back to Kíli. He would watch them whittle away wood as a new marvelous toy materializing before his eyes, or sketch out new ideas while voice aloud (but softly) their plans for the next toy. Or he’d watch them brush and braid each other’s hair, or just hold whispered conversations that would go on until Kíli’s eyelids drooped. Then carefully they would lay Kíli on the floor or bed if one was nearby, cover him, and give him peace. 

On this went for months. The remainder of the winter saw Kíli asleep through most of it, though no nightmares plagued him. Indeed, he slept so much it was almost difficult to tell when he was awake. It was always as though he walked on clouds. Life had become a blur of pleasurable tingles over his head and spine and good feelings blooming inside him. 

It was difficult to explain, but Kíli felt as though his entire mind and body was being rewired during his moments of sleep. He felt rejuvenated upon waking, able to face the world. The progress had been slow yet significant, and the three planned to keep this up until Nrar’s return. 

“Should he ever return,” Bofur mumbled one evening, or Kíli thought he had heard. 

Though Kíli was not close to feeling like himself again, he noticed that his catatonic states had lessened considerably. Blissful, restful sleep somehow brought him to life again, and he never wanted this era to end. 

It was this very reason that, despite his old strength returning, Kíli did not want to return to the royal chambers. He feared the memories would choke him and drag him back down to the darkness that nearly claimed his life. 

But Bifur pushed him to go back. The coldness and the stares from the servants did not grow warmer, but to his relief Kíli grew more tolerant of them. He braved himself to be among them more. 

The world outside of the mountain, once known as the Desolation of Smaug, had changed much from the dystopic scenery he had first come to over a year ago. The first signs of a new city were taking place this spring, with some Menfolk living closer to the mountain than they had for years. As king, he wanted to enjoy every bit of his land. 

It was a month since starting his new therapy with Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur that Kíli found Huginn. Kíli had almost forgotten about Dain’s offer to have their communication open, and he only remembered when he happened upon Dain’s raven Huginn sitting out on the ledge of a window one early spring morning. After talking with the raven, Kíli realized Huginn had no idea of the happenings inside Erebor. That was when Kíli decided to write Dain a letter, though he was very careful with his wording. He recalled Dain’s own words of immense trust towards Nrar, and wondered about that. Kíli knew Nrar to be Dain’s close friend, but he wasn’t sure whether Dain knew of what Nrar was capable of.

* * *

_My dear cousin Dain,_

_I apologize for not contacting you in nearly a year. I have been busy with the happenings of Erebor and had no time to write. I was glad to find that Huginn still regularly visited the mountain so I could send this letter to you._

_I am pleased to say Nrar has done well in bringing the kingdom to greatness. You may have heard this already, but our relationship has changed over the course of the year. I take him now as spouse in love, but I am afraid that after all this time I still do not know much about his childhood. I was hoping I would get more from you, as Nrar is currently away on business and I have not been able to stop thinking about him. When did you meet him, and what else can you tell me about him? I’m afraid we’ve been too busy to become better acquainted with each other. I never even had a chance to ask him where he was born!_

_May I also inquire about another dwarf? I have heard that one of my servants, Lofar, had left the kingdom. Has he come to the Iron Hills? He left so quickly that I fear for him. He was at a right state, and I fear I am to blame for his departure from my lands. If you do learn of his whereabouts, please convey my message to him. I wish for him to know that I do care for him, and I apologize for any hurt I may have caused him._

_With love, your cousin,  
Kíli _

* * *

After sending the letter off with Huginn, Kíli returned to his rooms. His bedchamber was perhaps the only room he still feared entering. Although Nrar was no longer there, the memories of his every abuse and rape was written all over. He could not bear sleeping on the same bed upon where he had suffered so much, but there was no other room he could take up. Balin and Dolla’s old room, which Kíli had his eye on, was already occupied by a servant and his small family.

And it was tradition for the King under the Mountain to take this room, for it was the largest and the room all of the previous kings had slept in. 

Kíli moved stuff around in attempt of changing the mood of the room, though nothing could change the room’s atmosphere to him. But it was during one of the cleaning sprees that he found his crown. Dust clung to the crown, its metal dulled over time, and Kíli felt a pang of guilt. Every dwarf from the Company had contributed to its forging, their joined gift to Kíli, and Kíli had just tossed it aside. 

He could not remember when he stopped wearing it. How much had Nrar brainwashed him, shoving him away from the throne? He shuddered to think, that Nrar had stripped him of his king status without his knowing. 

He polished up his crown and placed it over his head. 

“Almost a king,” Kíli thought while studying himself in the mirror. He could barely recognize himself, his eyes so strange and haunted. He was certain his skin was never this pale, and with his sunken eyes it had taken away from his beauty. But hair and beard both had grown long, and Kíli rather enjoyed the look. This was the longest that Kíli ever wore his beard, and he thought the look was elegant, so fitting for his face. Perhaps a thin braid here and there would add to the look, along with tiny silver clasps. Kíli smiled sadly at his reflection. When was the last time he indulged in a little vanity?

“What have I allowed into my life to poison me?” he wondered ruefully. “I don’t deserve this. I truly don’t.” The words alone made the thought of letting Nrar go far easier. He could learn how to rule this kingdom if he tried. 

After finally tearing his eyes away from his reflection, Kíli made for the throne room. He was dressed in a simple robe, but with his crown his attire seemed to transform into something more regal. Some of the servants gave him disgusted looks, others strangely horrified, to see Kíli settling himself at the throne. Kíli gave them no word. If this was dishonoring their regent, whom they dearly called their king, then Kíli would sit here as often as he could. He tried giving a few commands while in the throne room, but ordering around some of the servants was like trying to bend cold metal with bare hands. 

When he tired, he rummaged through Nrar’s notes and orders. The regent had ensured that the kingdom could carry on without his presence for a few years at most, though Kíli could not understand why. Nrar had made it seem he would not be long on his travel, but Kíli was not complaining. He just wished he could understand how to be a king, how to give orders. Then he could do away with Nrar for good, possibly have him tried for his crimes. 

After putting the papers back, Kíli returned to his room, dispirited. It will take time to get a hang on this, he realized.

* * *

In the months following, Kíli next turned to making his presence known to the rest of the mountain kingdom. Recalling the tales of how his great-grandfather Thror and the kings before him watched over their people, Kíli strolled through the streets of Erebor, taking note of every happening, of the work _his_ people were doing, the goods finely crafted by the expert hands of the dwarves.

Many were surprised to see him, having assumed Kíli had stepped down from the throne a long time ago, but many were rejoiced. Or most, as Dori still pretended Kíli did not exist. Seeing Bifur and Bofur and Bombur’s faces light up in surprise and mirth at seeing him in his crown, walking with his head held high, was another little beacon breaking through to him. 

Even if a few of Nrar’s men tried to bar Kíli away from the markets, telling him to remain in his rooms, he pushed past them gently as though he did not see them. It was not easy doing so. Each time he returned to the throne room in fear of a mutiny, that they would rile against him and hurt him more than Nrar ever did. But they simply carried on with their activities, only eyeing him closely with death-like stares.

* * *

He left his mark wherever he went. Kíli would not tolerate any ounce of Nrar’s influence to remain in the Lonely Mountain - _his_ mountain as Kíli kept thinking of it. His regular trips to the various shops and neighborhoods involved also meeting and getting to know his own folk. He held festivals and made also small gifts as offerings to families and to their children. He feared his creations would be mocked, as he was out of practice for so long, but if there was anything subpar in his gifts no one mentioned it. If anything, everyone seemed honored and delighted to receive a gift from their elusive king.

“Does this mean you are our king fully now?” Gimli asked him one day. 

Kíli wasn’t certain how to reply. He was still a mess of a king in some respects, but the recent weeks had done much in encouraging him to at keep trying. 

“Nrar is out for some business,” Kíli said. “I have no doubt he will return. But I don’t think I will need him for long.” 

Gimli snorted. “You never needed him in the first place, if you ask me!” 

A sad laugh escaped from Kíli as he was suddenly filled with affection for Gimli. He reached out and ruffled his cousin’s hair.

* * *

_Dearest Kíli,_

_I am ever pleased to hear from you, cousin! I was beginning to think of visiting you by this springtime. I had been keeping updated with Nrar, who said you were doing well, but I was hoping to receive a letter penned by your own hand. Don’t hesitate to send as many letters as you would like! I hope you have a better handling of things now? If you need anything, I am always willing to help you, dear cousin._

_It pleases me to know how well you’ve been with Nrar. He has written to me of his love for you but was unsure how you felt. I understand the difference in your ages may make you shy, but please do open up to him as he is bonded to you._

_As to your question, I knew Nrar since my childhood. He had no sibling of his own, so my family adopted him because of all the time we spent together. I can tell you he always had drive to lead others even if he was not the leader. I always thought it would do him good to find a new settlement to rule because I did not think it did him well to be under my shadow. Together we commanded the army of the Iron Hills, but in leading the country it has been myself and my wife._

_At my counsel, he took a year to travel Middle-earth just a few years past and since then had become harder, I assume to strengthen himself against any foe. But I have heard some tales of wretchedness, though I never trust rumors for they twist the truth with each retelling, and Nrar’s had his rivals in training. I do not believe this dwarf I knew as a brother could be capable of what the rumors tell. But I do see that he has become a little harder on others, though he is as wonderful as ever before when in a good mood. But I hope he has not been too harsh to you. Ambitious as he is, he would never hurt another dwarf. But if he has upset you in any way, please tell me and I will speak with him as brother to brother. Remember in the end this is still your kingdom, cousin Kíli._

_As for Lofar, I have not heard anything of him. There have been some immigrants to the Iron Hills recently, but none with that name. Could this be a misunderstanding on your part? I cannot imagine what you would do to hurt someone! Perhaps Lofar has not gone to the Iron Hills but to another mountain where an ill family or friend may be. Regardless, I will look further into it and relay your message if I find him._

_Much love,  
Dain Ironfoot_

Kíli tucked the letter into his pocket and thanked Huginn, promising to write before the day is over, before the bird flew off. He mulled over Dain’s words as he made his way to the toy shop. Whatever concern he had towards trusting Dain were made more confusing by this letter. It didn’t seem Dain was even conscious of the sort of crimes Nrar was capable of. Or he simply refused to see, as Nrar was like a brother to him. 

“If such rumors were told about Fíli,” Kíli thought, “I too would have a hard time believing them either. I can understand that.”

“But something in Nrar’s trip changed him.” It was the only explanation, if Dain was to be trusted (and had Thorin not trusted Dain, Kíli would have known.) The change was noticed when Nrar returned from his trip. The more Kíli thought about it the more obvious it seemed, but what could possibly have changed Nrar to act so unbecoming a dwarf? 

“Kíli, today I was thinking of trying something different with you, if that is fine,” Bifur said when Kíli walked into the back room of the toy shop. 

Kíli settled himself at his usual spot on the floor. His mind was still foggy from his earlier contemplation. “All right.” 

“It has nothing to do with the massage,” Bifur said. “Bofur and I were practicing a few techniques we think you should be familiar with.” 

“For what?” 

“Defending yourself,” Bofur said. “Should someone try to hurt you again.” 

Kíli froze. He much preferred to not dwell on the rape, but he nodded his head in understanding. 

“Has any of the servants tried to do anything to you lately?” Bofur asked. 

“No,” Kíli said hesitantly. How he hated lying! “They’ve been giving me dirty looks, and that’s about the length of it.” 

The two dwarves nodded. 

“We’ve been helping strengthening your spirit,” Bifur said. “Now it is time for your body.” 

“I understand,” Kíli said. After drawing a deep breath, he added, “I’m ready.” 

Bifur motioned for Bofur to get into position. Kíli watched as calmly as he could, although he had to admit it felt uncomfortable to see Bofur lying in the same position Nrar had forced Kíli in in the past. Lying on his back with his legs spread around Bifur, it was almost distressing, and Kíli thought he caught a flicker of fear cross Bofur’s own face before he relaxed. 

Kíli listened intently as Bifur gave the instructions. He demonstrated how an attacker would force their victim down, and he had Bofur perform the counter attack to his advances. 

“See this?” Bifur said, requesting Bofur to repeat his movements slower. Kíli nodded his understanding. The counterattacks were cleverly crafted. Bofur’s arms were outstretched in a straight line, his hands firmly clasping Bifur’s shoulders. “You know I am stronger than my cousin, but with this simple move, no matter where I turn, I cannot lower myself. Be sure to keep your arms straight!” As if on cue, Bofur bent his arms slightly, and Bifur was able to push through, pinning Bofur to the ground with his entire body. 

They demonstrated again, with Bofur clearly showing each step, of blocking Bifur, of slipping away but not before he lands a few kicks at his attacker. Then they went into other scenarios: what to do if the culprit was choking Kíli, attacking from behind, or pining down his arms. 

After showing Kíli the entire steps, Kíli was called forward to take Bofur’s place. 

“Think you are ready to try this?” Bifur asked, his voice gentler than before.

Kíli nodded, but he almost changed his mind the moment he was lying on the floor. Being touched by his friends during the massage sessions and watching Bofur perform the steps didn’t bother him as much as being in this position himself. He was back in the situation Nrar had forced him into many times before. Panic rose in his chest, but he battled it. He couldn’t break down this quickly in front of his friends. Bifur had trained him before for battle, and Kíli never wept, even if he was injured. Though his friends had seen him cry so many times in the past year, he couldn’t let them see him while like this. 

A warm hand clutched his. 

“It’s okay, laddie,” was Bofur’s soft voice. “Do you want to continue?” 

Kíli took a deep breath and nodded, returning Bofur’s smile. The session went on without much incident. By the end he was panting from the exertion. Bifur had allowed Kíli to kick him, wanting to assess his physical strength, and Kíli felt shame in realizing that his body had gone horribly weak over the past year. 

“You will get your strength back,” Bifur said. “You’re young and will bounce back quickly.” 

Kíli nodded, thanking him for the lesson. He made to go when Bofur requested they have another session to bring him to sleep. 

“I think you will need something relaxing after going through that,” Bofur said. His eyes were begging Kíli to remain, and Kíli became aware of how much his body was shaking. It wasn’t Bifur’s fault; it was just the reminder, being pinned underneath another, and someone much stronger than him. Kíli was certain he would burst into tears the moment he locked himself in his private room, and the way Bofur looked at him said that he knew what will happen. Perhaps a session with him would be better, Kíli thought. 

Bifur excused himself, as he had some work to do in the shop. He hinted that Bofur may also be needed near the mines, but Bofur pretended he didn’t hear. Kíli settled himself in a sitting position in front of Bofur as Bifur shut the door behind him. 

“I’m sorry we put you through it,” Bofur said softly as he threaded his fingers through Kíli’s hair. 

“It’s important,” Kíli said. Inside his mind he was sorry for putting Bifur and Bofur through so much in enduring his grief. He closed his eyes and let himself settle into Bofur’s touch, letting go of any thought and focusing on the fingers massaging his scalp. 

As Bofur pulled back a section of Kíli’s hair, he leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I know it is Nrar.” 

Kíli stiffen. His eyes shot open. “How?” 

“Putting all the clues together,” Bofur said. He told Kíli of what Glori had witnessed between Aprir and Nori, and of his own conversation with Janur. Kíli made no movement in all the time Bofur spoke, and Bofur was careful to keep his voice down lest Bifur heard them. 

“And the dolls,” Bofur added. “The ones you gave me for safe-keeping. You said your inner name was in them, and you feared servants would go looking for them. But why would a servant go snooping through your belongings for a doll? Wouldn’t they assume it is in a necklace or your crown? It had to be someone who knew you more intimately than them, perhaps the same person who forced you to get rid of the dolls we gifted you.” 

“Kíli, it’s Nrar you were keeping the dolls away from. You never told him your inner name?” 

Kíli shook his head. “Neither do I know his. That bonding ceremony…it was botched. I could not hear his name, and panicking, I didn’t let him hear. I am uncertain if we are even wed under law. ” He lay silent for a while before sticking his hands out over his knees. 

_Does Bifur know?_ he signed, the shakiness of his hands obvious even in the dimness of the room. 

Bofur reached around Kíli and signed back, _Bifur shows no sign. But, I believe, yes._

Kíli nodded. _Do not tell him._

_I believe he knows._

_Don’t make big deal of it_. Kíli gave a small sigh. 

“Why, Kíli?” Bofur’s question was low and soft, merely a gust of breath against his ear. 

_Don’t want, Bifur, to do anything_. 

“But I am glad you know…just having someone else know what’s happening with me,” Kíli added under his breath. 

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” 

“I believed I deserved it.”

“What do you plan to do now?” Bofur asked. “Can’t you raise a case against him? No one will stand for this, and if Dain knew -” 

“And if we are left without a king again -“ 

“ _You_ are our king, Kíli!” 

“I am lousy still,” Kíli said. “Trust me, I’ve checked.” He turned around to give Bofur a grim smile. “I’ve thought about it, but I know that without Nrar I would be in the same situation as before. I need his leadership for Erebor.” 

“But what of your suffering?” 

“I will endure it until I find another answer,” Kíli said. “In the meantime, I need to think of everyone else. They need Nrar too. Even if he is vile at times to them, he has helped erect Erebor from the rubble.” 

Bofur gawked at him. Kíli looked down, but his stance was firm. “None should be enduring this, Kíli.” 

“But this may be in the best interest of everyone. I’ll allow it, for now. Just for my people. I am telling the truth, Bofur. I no longer think I deserved the way he’s treated me, but I’m worried for the well-being of Erebor.” 

“Then you will be our king of agony so we can live in prosperity?” 

Kíli nodded. Bofur wrapped his arms around Kíli and gave him the gentlest of hugs. “But you need not suffer alone.” 

“It won’t be long,” Kíli promised. “Until I think of something else, am ready to truly let go. But I am glad I have someone I can share this with. Just...try to make Bifur think it’s not Nrar. Just for now. Please?” 

“I am positive he’s come to the same conclusion, but...I promise. I’ll try to distract him away from Nrar.” Bofur offered Kíli a smile, then suddenly his eyes widened. “Dear me, with all this talk I nearly forgot! Kíli...did I tell you what Aprir and Nori were speaking about?” 

“Only that Aprir was telling him what her siblings and she had witnessed. Is…there more?” 

Bofur told him everything of the curious meeting which Glori had interrupted, and what Aprir had set out for Nori to do. He could not suppress a grin at Kíli’s reaction. 

“Looks like we may be without a regent soon after all,” Bofur said at the end brightly. 

“No!” Kíli gasped, horrified. “He would be a kinslayer, a first among the dwarves! Not even the petty-dwarves were slain when the seven clans exiled them!” 

“I’m sure he’ll find some way to avoid being a kinslayer directly,” Bofur said. “But to be honest, I would not be satisfied with a mere banishment of him. Not after what he’s done is far worse than any of the petty-dwarves of old.” A light flickered in his eyes, red and dangerous for a moment as thoughts of Nrar’s deeds flashed through his mind; it almost terrified Kíli. “No, it wouldn’t be enough…

“But I have kept this from Bifur and will continue to do so if you want. You are in need of building your body again, so any chance to do it is needed, I figured. It’s as good as battle-training!” 

Kíli nodded and turned away. “But Erebor might need him still...”

And yet Bofur was certain he saw, despite all of Kíli’s words earlier, relief on the lad’s face.

* * *

Kíli’s disposition changed since hearing the news. With each passing week and no Nrar in sight Kíli blossomed a little more in strength and disposition. He was regularly wearing his crown and passing orders to the servants without much thought of their reactions. While most regarded him with the same disdain as before, a few were cooperative enough to obey his commands without complaint.

The lessons continued. Kíli was finding them a great chance to exercise his body, building himself back to his old strength. The thought of Nrar gone drove him to pushing himself; even should Nrar somehow return, should he somehow avoid Nori, there would be no way he could avoid death in Kíli’s hands. 

Battle was not all they did during these lessons. Even if Nrar was perhaps dead by now, they still brainstormed ideas on other means to evade Nrar, if physical force was impossible. 

Varis the healer was even involved in this, as Kíli commanded of him what to write in his official medical records, should the need arise. Breathing a sigh of relief, Kíli let his mind wander as he strolled about in his mountain. Even if Nrar somehow survived, Kíli felt he had set up many weapons against Nrar. 

“There is nothing he can do to harm me,” Kíli thought as he traced the gold that sealed Nrar and his wedding block to the wall. He closed his eyes and hummed lightly before suddenly opening his eyes, an odd look on his face. He gave the block a nod before leaving. He was sure Nori would kill Nrar, but just in case. Kíli was moving every piece against him. 

As summer approached, Kíli got into the habit of inviting Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur to his private dining halls, welcoming familiar faces to join him at the table. The number of people grew, and soon he was dining with not just the Broadbeam family but all of his fellow companions of the original Company. His companions brought their families as well, making the number of people too great to fit into the private dining hall. They had to be moved to the same hall where they dined the evening before Thorin and Fíli’s funeral. 

Looking around, Kíli could almost fool himself into thinking that everything was normal. Life bustled in the hall with energy so much like what he was used to. The dwarves sang songs - some even bringing their instruments to play like on the night they stayed in Bag End - and joked and even made a mess of things at times. Gimli loved the food fights, but they were limited, and at times boiling down to just himself and Ori holding competitions to see who could belch louder. As Glóin tried to calm his kin, Glori and Nîlma discussed gems and studied the handiworks of the other with shrewd, envious eyes. 

And of course, there was laughter as Bofur cracked jokes that had the entire table alit with mirth. For one split moment, Kíli felt normal again, and in his heart burst a wave of giddy energy he never felt before. How wonderful it felt to be himself again! One day while studying Bofur’s face as they all laughed deep in their hearts, he almost jumped out of his throne to embrace Bofur, wishing very much to lay a kiss on him. 

And that was when the euphoric feeling died. Kíli shook himself. He was still alarmed by his actions towards Lofar. What an idiot he was, Kíli told himself. To risk his friendship with Bofur, who was still his friend despite everything. 

He was suddenly also aware - painfully aware - of who were missing in their group. Thorin’s presence would have either subdued the crowd or gone unnoticed in the melee of celebration. But it was Fíli’s absence that was was agonizingly felt in that moment. Reaching for his tankard only to find it empty, Kíli recalled that it was Fíli who always refilled his drinks. Suddenly his side of the table seemed too quiet, absent of the loud roaring laughter of his older brother. 

And it wasn’t just Thorin and Fíli. Kíli counted the number. Thorin and Fíli gone forever. Balin and Dwalin exiled. Dori estranged from him. Nori on the hunt after Nrar. About half remained. The laughter suddenly seemed muted, the music lacking without the harp, fiddles, and viols. Even Bofur’s mirth was not as loud as they once were, as if muffled and heard far away. 

“Everything all right?” Bofur asked him softly, leaning closely as not to rouse attention on Kíli. 

“Just thinking about those of us not here,” Kíli said. “And of how everything was better back then. I wish we could have stayed that way.” 

Bofur nodded in understanding and gave Kíli’s hand a squeeze. The rush of affection returned, but Kíli fought the urge to stroke his thumb over Bofur’s hand. The thought of Lofar, and Bofur’s reaction upon hearing the news, was enough to shame him into silence over this developing feeling. 

Ever thankful for Glori, Kíli watched her as a means of distraction. She was ordering around the servants with such vigor that nearly none could keep up with her, and Kíli suspected he understood the reason behind it. Bifur followed suit, his eyes poised on the servants as if trying to figure out who were the culprits of Kíli’s rape, though Kíli sensed Bifur was only doing that to hide what he really knew. As though reading his mind, Bifur turned to Kíli and his grey eyes bore into his.

* * *

Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur often stayed behind, either one or all three being taken to Kíli’s room to give him the massage until the tingles spread through Kíli’s spine and legs, and a deep tranquillity fell over him. He often wished to have them remain, for good company that could somehow fill his bedroom with new energy. He thought he’d caught a few of the servants watching them enter. They never said anything, or made to show they were ready for any orders. They simply watched the three until Kíli closed the door behind him.

One afternoon he confessed to them his brief hunt for a new room. 

“But this is where the king and queen sleep!” Bofur said. “It is your room by all rights.” 

“I know, but it is difficult when my blood is staining the rug,” Kíli said. 

“Then change the rug!” 

“But the room still reminds me of… _you know_. I just don’t want to be reminded of how I was treated.” 

“Then change the entire room,” Bifur said. “Make it something you can relax in proudly. You need a change of scenery!” 

“We can help you give it a complete change!” Bombur said, grinning. And so he and Bifur and Bofur helped Kíli move about the furniture and change about the trinkets until the room was almost unrecognizable from moments before. Kíli didn’t think it was possible, for him to sit in this room and not have anything remind him of his time with Nrar. He embraced each of them in gratitude. 

Kíli had become tired from the process of moving the furniture around. They let him rest on his stomach in bed, and each took turns to massage his scalp, neck, and back until the blissful sleep claimed him. When he awoke, he was alone but his heart did not sink as it normally did, expecting at any moment to see Nrar coming for him. It was indeed as if he awoke in an entirely different room. 

Silently thanking Mahal for gifting him three such good friends, Kíli rested back lazily, but happily, on the king’s bed.

* * *

“Bofur.”

They watched snow falling, blanketing the world around them in white. The coats both wore were elegantly tailored. Though one was born of royalty and the other of a simple family, there was no distinction between them of rank in that moment, save for the crown which glistened atop Kíli’s head, singling him out as king of the snowy mountain. 

“Yes, laddie?” 

Kíli turned to him with shining eyes. “It’s been a year since he left. Do you think...?” 

Bofur chuckled. “I do not know. We would have heard something by now, don’t you think? But I would not get my hopes up too high just yet, though I would not be in fear either. I trust Nori.”

Kíli raised his eyebrows. 

“Well, everything save for my belongings!” Bofur gave a hearty laugh before taking a puff from his pipe. Kíli watched the smoke leaving Bofur’s lips, admiring everything about this moment. The softness of the sky and world about them, and the lightness and carefreeness in his chest, this was like a dream and Kíli wished it will never end. 

“Yes, no fear here,” Kíli said, grinning. “I’m no longer afraid.” 

Sharing his smile, Bofur reached for his hand, letting the touch linger.

* * *

In early February Kíli received a letter from Dain telling him that he has found Lofar. He was living in the Iron Hills once more but under another name, and finding him had been by complete accident. Fortunately Dain had not interrogated Lofar about the sudden switch back, but he did ask for Lofar’s permission to notify Kíli.

“He appeared hesitant before he took my offer,” Dain wrote. “He gave me his permission so long as I do not allow you to see him. Whatever had happened between you I hope it can resolve with ink and paper alone.” 

Kíli jumped at the chance. He wrote back to Dain thanking him, and with his note was another, a message to be sealed meant only for Lofar to read. The writing of it stressed Kíli out more than he anticipated. He had to get the words exactly right. Lofar deserved an apology, but Kíli was also careful at how much he exposed. Should the letter be intercepted, he wanted to make certain only Lofar understood the meaning behind each line. 

_Lofar,_

_I am deeply sorry you felt you had to escape to another land and change your name. My intent was never to hurt you, but I realize I have done something terrible and I am ashamed of myself for my actions. With this letter are coins, jewelry, and clothes for you. You need not accept them, and I will not be offended if you don’t take them. But I feel, as king, I must apologize to you in some way. I know you must have enjoyed your time in my kingdom, but I cannot win you back and I will not attempt to. I understand your agony far more closely than you may realize. It sickens me to think I behaved in the same manner that resulted in my own pain not too long ago. If I could change the past, take back what I had done, I would._

_May you have a wonderful and uncomplicated life. I am sorry again for hurting you._

_Kíli_

Bofur listened attentively as Kíli read the letter to him. Kíli had asked for him specifically. Although Bofur never said anything, Kíli suspected they - he, Lofar, and Bofur - all had something in common. Although Bofur was warming up to Kíli again, when Kíli brought up Dain’s recent message he felt sudden coldness from his usually smiling friend. Kíli had to remind himself that Lofar’s situation was his own doing, but Bofur’s reaction still pained him. His affection for Bofur had been steadily growing since the summer, and yet he feared Bofur would reject him if he did anything to pursue Bofur, thinking that Kíli was trying to force himself on Bofur. He kept his feelings abated for now. 

“What do you think?” Kíli asked when he was done. 

“Your regret is evident,” Bofur said simply. 

“Do you think it might surprise him?” 

Bofur sighed. “I think the damage is already done, but perhaps it could heal the relationship between you both just a little. Is that what the gifts are for?” He pointed to the pile of clothing items and satchels of gold Kíli had gathered together for Lofar. 

“It is to help him in case he needs some resources to get back on his feet,” Kíli said. “Since it sounds like he didn’t even bother to pack when he left. I want to make it up to him as much as I can. It’s because of me that he’s even in this situation.” 

He paused, hesitating if he should ask the following before pushing himself to just open his mouth. “And what do you think? Have I done enough? I…don’t want to be like Nrar. I could not stop thinking how stupid I was, behaving just like him.” 

Kíli could not prevent his lower lip from quivering, which Bofur took notice of. 

“Kíli!” Bofur closed the space between them, bringing his arms around him protectively. “You are not Nrar. You made a terrible mistake, but you are not Nrar. Never.” 

Kíli gave a shuddering breath and held Bofur tightly back. “Thank you.”

* * *

Dolla came to him, and Kíli asked her what terrible things used to plague her dreams at night. She raised her eyebrows, studying him in fear, before lowering her voice.

“Surely you’ve also heard them?” she asked. “They come marching in the night, but they are not one of us.” 

“You mean like the night I buried my uncle and brother?” Kíli said. “But those are spirits of the dwarves! They came with Mahal, and now my uncle and brother march with them.” 

But Dolla shook her head. “But they are not us, my king.” 

In that moment Kíli became aware of the marching sound once more, and he turned in the direction where they came from. Of course he saw nothing, for the spirits took on no physical form, but when he turned back around Dolla was gone. 

He called for her, confused as to how she would have disappeared so fast from the empty hall, and set out to find her. The marching sound grew louder, bringing out the goosebumps on Kíli’s arms. 

He turned to the side and gave a great startled yell. Staring at him from the wall was a face as though it was carved out of the same marble as the wall. There were many faces, all in slumber until Kíli gazed at them. Then they awoke, anger flaring in their terrible eyes, and one by one their arms extended like shadows robbing Kíli of every good thought. Breath left him, and pain tore through his body. His heart sank upon recognizing the faces: the fallen from the Iron Hills who fought in the Battle of Five Armies and faces so much like his. He recognized them as his ancestors. And among them, their eyes and faces contorted in utter hatred, were Thorin and Fíli. 

“Stop! Uncle! Brother! You’re hurting me!” Kíli shrieked at them, but Thorin and Fíli did not lessen their ghostly grip over him. The marching, the evil chanting of the fell spirits, roared in his ears. 

“Mountain wights!” Kíli yelled, hoping someone from the kingdom would hear him. He fought to move in vain, and could only watch helplessly as the wights stepped out of the walls, their shrieks shaking the entire foundation of the mountain, and in his mind’s eye he could suddenly see all of Erebor drenched in the blood of the ensuing carnage. “Ai, the mountain wights! Mahal protect us!” 

“My lord?” 

Kíli jolted awake and scrambled to sit up. The servant took a step back in concern. She bowed politely. Kíli eyed her for a moment before deciding that she was no wight, but one of the dwarves of his court. The dream had been so vivid, and Kíli was almost certain he still felt the shadowy grip around his neck. He could faintly hear shouting outside, and he jumped to his feet in fear. 

“What is happening?” he demanded. 

“My pardons, sire, but Nrar’s party has returned, and the dwarf Nori-“ 

Forgetting completely about the dream, Kíli rushed out, his heart racing. If Nori was here, then it could only mean he was successful. The shouts had to have been from Nrar’s own men, obviously shaken over their leader’s demise. But Nrar deserved it, and should anything his men attempt to do to Nori, Kíli would protect him. 

The main halls were bursting with dwarves that Kíli had never seen before, as though all seven clans were gathered together under one mountain. Kíli caught sight of his own men, deep in talk with the newcomers. Praying it was news of Nrar’s death, he tried to find someone to tell him, but most avoided him. 

“Let it be because I am widowed and forever rid of him,” Kíli thought eagerly. 

“Tell me, what is the meaning of this commotion?” Kíli asked one of the newcomers huddled in a group. “I am the king of this mountain and demand an answer!” 

The dwarves stared at him in dead silence, but at last one of them pointed to a room not far off. There were dwarves about talking wildly. Kíli threaded his way past them, then ran to the source of the commotion. In one of the chambers, barren and seldom used, sat Nori on the ground. Kíli’s heart leapt with anticipation and rushed towards him, but he froze when he saw that Nori’s beard was completely shaved off, and his hair was a mess. The look Nori gave him was one of regret and grief. Kíli glanced down and took a step back, his eyes unable to tear away from the two stumps where Nori’s hands used to be. 

In that exact moment, Kíli felt a hand squeeze his shoulder as a sickeningly soft voice whispered in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I haven't neglected this project. :) Chapter 9 was slowly in the works since early July, so I am glad to finally be done with it. It's been a tough summer with me what with an ill family member, so having a relatively happy chapter was soothing (although, that ending...) I apologize for how long it's been, and please forgive any errors you see (hopefully no continuity/plot errors!) I proof-read this a few times until I thought I couldn't do it anymore. 
> 
> The training Bifur and Bofur put Kíli through were inspired by these [two](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6D8r-wH0dkk) [videos](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Jx2XTgcIsc).


	10. Seeking Asylum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments! :) My loved one is still in the hospital, but I am being hopeful. 
> 
> This chapter is perhaps the longest one yet (about 9,100 words according to the file.) A lot happens here! 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: non-con, violence. There is also some medical discussion.

“So long it’s been, my love,” Nrar said, giving the back of Kíli’s neck a quick kiss. “I met one of your friends while I was in my travels, and I’m afraid he tried to kill me over a bit of gold, as if his undeserved treasures from your uncle’s quest were not plenty enough! But do not be worried. I took care of him, the little thief.” 

Kíli did not speak, unable to find the words. All this time he was looking forward to the day when he hears of Nrar’s death. He knew how well Nori could snoop around without being caught; even with his eyes on his possessions at all times Kíli felt Nori had taken things from him before: rations of food, some pipeweed, or even a few gold coins. It annoyed Kíli during the quest, but in such a dire situation as this he was depending on Nori’s ability to slip between the cracks. 

Nrar left his side, and Kíli turned to Nori. He sat showing no emotion, not daring to glance at Nrar. Kíli wasn’t sure if it was out of fear; Nori would never be afraid of anyone, arrogant as he was. But he sat perfectly still, his wrists in chains, as Nrar walked about him as if to study him. 

Kíli waited until Nrar was out of the chamber before he got on his knees beside Nori. 

“I am so sorry,” Kíli said. 

Nori nodded. 

“I never wanted this.” Kíli sighed as he picked up Nori’s arms in his hands, studying both stumps. “I hope it is not infected. We can have a healer look at it. Would that be all right with you?” 

Another nod. Kíli frowned. 

“Why do you not speak? Are you angry at me? I would have stopped you if I knew you were-”

Nori glanced up at him, the same pained expression as before. He opened his mouth and Kíli felt the ground drop beneath him. 

“He removed your tongue _and_ hands?” Nori closed his eyes as if affirming, looking down. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” Kíli thought. “Since when does removing the tongue a punishment for theft?” 

“Did you see something?” he asked Nori. He studied the two stumps again. “Is this the real reason Nrar took your tongue and hands? So you can’t talk and can’t sign nor write!” 

Nori’s lips moved, mouthing the word “yes.” 

“What did you see?” Kíli asked, but in that moment Nrar returned with some guards. Kíli scrambled to his feet, studying the new guards that walked about his kingdom without his consent. Their faces were hard, their eyes cold. Nrar stood by Kíli with an arm around his waist as he happily commanded his men to take Nori to one of the prison cells. 

As they watched the guards drag Nori away amidst cries and boos from the dwarves, Kíli cringed. 

“He is my friend,” he told Nrar. “And as king, I would have gone differently in punishing his crime.” 

“As king?” Nrar sneered. 

“You are my regent,” Kíli reminded him cooly. He was ready to dismiss Nrar from his service. Seeing the humiliation Nrar had brought upon his friend was the very last thing he was going to allow Nrar to do. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, Nrar forced a deep kiss on him.

“Come, love. It has been long. I can feel your own heat burning inside you.” 

Even with him resisting, Kíli was forced upstairs, back to his private room. Nrar locked the door behind them, taking only the briefest of glances at the changes in the room, and pushed Kíli against the wall so that he was facing away from Nrar. His hands roamed over Kíli’s body as he planted kisses over his neck and back. 

“Nrar, I do not wish for this,” Kíli said. “Answer my question: why was Nori’s tongue cut off? That is not a typical punishment for theft - answer me!” 

Nrar chuckled. “You have become feisty during my absence - I like that. It’ll be more fun this way.” 

Kíli swatted his hands away from his hips, but Nrar was moving too fast, pressing him against the wall with such force that Kíli could barely wiggle free. It distraught him to realize that, no matter how much his body strengthened during the past year and a half, Nrar himself had also grown stronger. 

A disgusted moan escaped Kíli as a hand slipped underneath his robes, stroking him. He tried to will his body to not respond, but even more he tried to will himself not to vomit. The smell of Nrar so close to him, his uninvited hands over his body, violating him - the awful memories were pouring back. He would not succumb to this again, he told himself. Anything not to go through the rape again. 

Thankfully he didn’t need to throw Nrar off his back. Bifur and Bofur had come up with other means to deter Nrar away. It would not require aggression. Kíli let his body relax, as if throwing himself to the stimulations. He let out a pleasurable moan before suddenly hissing. 

“Nrar, stop, I mean it!” Kíli cried out. “Since your absence I’ve…developed a medical condition. I cannot control my bladder and bowels, and I absolutely must rush to the latrine or you’ll have a mess to deal with!” 

“A mess?” Nrar stepped back, studying Kíli with a confused look. “What is this? The supposed King under the Mountain cannot control his own body now?” 

“Just a small part of me,” Kíli said, careful to keep his voice calm. He spun around, forcing himself to give Nrar a look of genuine apology. “I am sorry, my love, but I must go.” He rushed to the lavatory, in case Nrar was watching him, and did not look back.

* * *

Since the Battle of Five Armies, Nori found Erebor unlivable. He stuck around for the funeral of Thorin and Fíli, but he could find little reason to stay afterwards. He meant no disrespect to the new king, the young Kíli. He’d seen the lad in action and was comfortable with the thought of Erebor in Kíli’s hands. His leaving was in no disrespect to anyone, not even Dori. And his treasure…he loved it of course, and they were well kept hidden in Erebor for whenever he needed them. But it had nothing to do with that.

It was Thorin. Nori revered in Thorin so deeply, a dwarf he had never thought to respect as much as he had grown to do. Without Thorin he felt as isolated from the other dwarves as before. Even with his newfound riches, something was missing. He needed to leave. 

He found himself exploring the North-most regions of Middle-earth among men and the occasional goblin. In his travels he got to visit the Grey Mountain, and he could not help feeling a sense of pride in his people as he gazed on the downtrodden kingdom. Goblins and orcs infested the mountain after Dain I’s death, but Nori still found himself drawn to the mountain. Goblins and orcs did not bother him; he stayed in one of the caves of the mountain, pretending he was king of Ered Mithrin, but life in another mountain, even if alone, did not suit him though he often did visit it again. He was used to be a nomadic dwarf. So let the others call him a petty-dwarf of the Third Age! He was not exiled from any land; rather he felt a pull to remain out in the world, exploring, looting, thinking. 

Glori his mother sent him many notes by ravens, all of which he returned back after refusing to take any message. He knew what she would say, what Dori and Ori would say. Though his relationship with his two brothers had improved greatly in the past couple years, he could not part from his old way of living. 

And then it happened upon one day when a tiny young raven came to Nori while he was busy enjoying some pipeweed, sitting high in the Grey Mountain. 

“Hello, you are a new one,” he said to the bird. “Did my mother’s old bird pass from this world?” 

“I come from the House of Bombur,” squeaked the little bird, her beady eyes studying him intently. 

“What does Bombur want from me?” Nori said. “He has all the pots and pans he could possibly ever need! He doesn’t need that gold-tinted one.” He chuckled, remembering the small fortune he was able to trick a manfolk for that pot. 

“It is not from him, but one of his children.” 

“And what does one of his spawn want from me?” Nori wondered. His mind searched for any recollection of them, if he had happened to steal anything from them that they may have noticed by now, but he came up with nothing. 

“Go on then,” he told the raven. 

“Her name is Aprir, and she said she’ll be waiting for you inside your mother’s house.” 

“Why so?” Nori sat up straighter, suddenly worried. “My mother isn’t ill, I hope?” 

“I cannot say more, master dwarf.” 

Nori sighed. “I will reach Erebor in four day’s time,” he said. “Tell no one else I am coming!”

* * *

“You must understand, I was rather taken aback by my husband’s condition,” Nrar said, his voice soft and sweet, concern dripping from every word. “It may not be my position to ask, but I had hoped, as both a spouse and ruler of the land, that I may get some answers.”

“Yes,” Varis said. “I’m afraid our king has developed incontinence. It’s rather unfortunate, but both his late uncle Frerin and Fíli apparently had similar symptoms.” 

Nrar’s eyes flashed at ‘our king’ but his face remained poised. “And what is the cause of this?” 

“A weakening of the muscles, sire.” 

“And a cure?” 

“No cure I’m afraid. An inconvenience it provides for him though, for he not only suffers the discomfort of urgency, but he needs to rush to the closest latrine.” Varis flipped through his notes on Kíli. “I hope I answered all of your questions.” 

Nrar was studying him intently, unspeaking. The notes of Kíli’s complaints, the various visits to Varis, the failed treatment for his condition - it was all documented. 

“But then why doesn’t he have a chamberpot in our rooms?” Nrar asked. 

Varis chuckled. “He was rather sensitive to the smell. He told me he did not want to offend you when you returned.” He glanced at Nrar over his glasses, taking in his expression. 

“How will this affect our intimacy?” 

“None can truly know, I’m afraid,” Varis said with a cheerful smile. “Although, as I was recently speaking with him, we were designing a new floor-plan for his room so he could take care of his problem during the night quickly and without disrupting anyone’s sleep. I hope it would not be bothersome to you? To have him wake up constantly.” 

“I…I can live with it,” Nrar said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. 

Varis grinned. “Good. I’m just worried he’ll keep soiling the bed as he’d done a few times already.” At the look of disgust on Nrar’s face, he quickly added, “My apologies, sire, but if you think you may need another bed separate from him-”

“No, I will be okay,” Nrar said hastily and left without another word. 

Long after the bell signaled the clinic door shutting, Varis took a deep breath. He and Kíli had worked long on creating these fake documents. He was not pleased with the continued silence of Nrar’s treatment, but he knew Kíli had his reasons. 

“Why is Kíli having trouble holding it in?” Óin’s voice startled Varis. He had almost forgotten the elderly dwarf was in the next room working on a few salves and ointments for some of his patients. He was relying on Óin’s poor hearing to prevent the dwarf from interfering. 

“I heard something about Fíli also having it?” Óin continued. “The boy was healthy as a pony! Not one muscle ever gone weak! Although if I had any complaint, it was that he should stop all the drinking he’d done. Who knows how that would have affected him. He was already getting rounder when we left Ered Luin. But Mahal rest his soul, I will not say more on that. 

“In fact…” Óin stepped closer. “I never even knew Kíli was suffering anything. I’ve seen him sit down for hours without ever needing to go anywhere.” 

“Ah,” Varis glanced at the door, hoping Nrar wasn’t near. He leaned towards Óin and whispered. “Kíli asked me to fabricate these. He’s trying to avoid Nrar, as they’ve been arguing.” 

“Martial problems?” Óin laughed as he studied the herbs lining the shelves, picking out ingredients. “Doesn’t surprise me a bit. Nrar’s hardly Kíli’s type. Not sure if Kíli even has a type, come to think of it. Though I did catch him ogling a certain Mirkwood guard once. Imagine what a scandal _that_ would have been, a dwarf trying to progenerate with an elf!” 

He waggled his eyebrows at Varis and roared with laughter as he strolled back to his station.

* * *

Glori’s wails led Kíli to the exact prison cell where Nori was being kept. The stench of the place made him gag; the prison had not been in use for many years and thus was never washed. Indeed, no one ever suspected any prisoners would be kept here.

The barred door of Nori’s cell was open to allow for visitors, while guards stood nearby. They made no notion to pull back Kíli from going inside. 

Kíli debated about remaining. He had never seen Glori in the state she was now in. She held unto Nori and wept heavily, cursing out Nrar’s name freely. Dori and Ori were also there, both at a loss for words. But Nori sat without moving, his eyes focussed ahead, his brows furrowed. About his face were cuts, bruises, and stains from foodstuffs thrown at him from the other dwarves. A dwarf with no beard was a thing to be despised and mocked. It was a universal sign of shame. 

“It was so foolish…so foolish…” 

Taking notice of Kíli, Glori reached out and pulled him close. 

“What has that despicable vermin said of my son to you?” she demanded. 

“He said nothing to me other than that Nori was trying to steal something from him,” Kíli said. He glanced quickly at the guards then shifted over so that they couldn’t see the message he quickly relayed to Glori. 

_Don’t speak of Nori’s mission_. 

Dori and Ori also saw his message. _What mission?_ Ori signed back hastily. 

Kíli shook his head, studying them both. He realized it was the first time since his fight with Dori that they were locking their gazes together. 

“I would like to speak with Nori privately,” Kíli said. 

Glori nodded and made to let go but not before leaning into her son and giving him the tightest of hugs. “It’s a blessing you’re still here, my darling.” 

Something cracked in Nori’s face, but he kept himself poised as he nodded his goodbyes to Glori, Dori, and Ori. Kíli settled himself in front of Nori as he had done before. 

“Nori, I am so sorry,” Kíli said. “I wanted to know why Nrar did this to you. You saw something, something that must have frightened him enough to do this to you. But can you say what it is?” 

Nori shook his head. He checked to see if his family were truly gone before he opened his mouth. He tried to speak, but the sounds were just jumbled without the aid of his tongue. Kíli held up his hands. 

“It’s fine,” he said, feeling something drop in his stomach. He was hoping there would be something he could use against Nrar, something that Nori witnessed which would mean endangerment to the entire kingdom. He tried to think of how he could get Nori to relate his message. He could still produce sound; perhaps if they worked together they could reinvent a new language between themselves? 

But what could Nori have possibly seen? Just based on what Kíli himself knew, or guessed…

“Won’t let…get away with this,” Kíli whispered. 

Nori looked over Kíli’s shoulder then suddenly back at him with a most disgusted look, and Kíli understood why just moments later. 

“What is this? Someone’s been speaking ill of me, I hear,” Nrar said smoothly as he slipped into the prison cell, a smug grin on his face. 

“Hello, my love,” Kíli said calmly. “Those words were for Nori to hear. They were not about you - never! I was trying to understand what possessed Nori to do what he did.” He returned Nori’s dirty look. “I cannot fathom why he would try to kill you. I didn’t think he would ever betray us like this!” 

“Once filth, always filth,” Nrar said. He circled around Nori as if studying to make certain nothing was given to Nori by Kíli, or vice versa. He wasn’t buying Kíli’s story, Kíli realized with fear. He got up to leave but took only a few steps when Nrar called him back. 

Nrar was standing tall in front of Nori, his smug grin still plastered. 

“I have been thinking a lot about this fiend’s crime, and I have come to the conclusion that he must be executed.” 

“What?” Kíli yelled against his better judgement. 

The grin grew on Nrar’s face. “Execution. Dear me, is Varis going to have to check your hearing as well?” 

Kíli recoiled. “I just…I cannot fathom what crime is so great that warrants his death. By shaving his beard you’ve shamed him. But cutting off his hands and tongue you’ve forever silenced him. Just release him back to his family. From what I’ve gathered about his relationship with her, his mother alone will be punishment for him. But _death_? Dwarves do not raise their hand against another!

“ _Though that is what you did to me_ ,” Kíli added in his mind. 

But Nrar only laughed. In that moment Kíli noticed Nori’s intense gaze. He was looking pointedly at Kíli, and then slowly as not to rouse suspicion, turned towards Nrar, his eyes pointing at some part of him. “If only you understood, beloved. There are things I would kill for. Secrets just far too intimate than even one’s inner name.” 

As Nrar spoke, Nori did it again, moving his gaze slowly, intently, towards Nrar’s…gloved hand. 

Kíli frowned. “Then what of a hearing?” 

“And who would be the judge? Yourself? It’s clear to me you wish to keep the thief alive!” 

“I’m merely trying to prevent my kingdom from straying down the same path as the Men of Númenor,” Kíli said. “Greed, arrogance, wrath - I will not have that in Erebor!” 

Nrar’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he strolled up to Kíli, caressing his face. “I’m afraid I cannot do that. I’m certain there are secrets you yourself do not wish others to know about.” 

Kíli glanced away as though Nrar could read his thoughts. Before they left, Kíli glanced back at Nori, who sat unmoving but his eyes still locked on Nrar’s hand.

* * *

_Dear Dain,_

_My husband Nrar has returned, and I was delighted for I missed him. But something has happened. One of my uncle’s men, Nori, had been caught in a kerfuffle with Nrar, and now Nrar is plotting to execute him. I understand Nori does not have the cleanest of records and has gotten in trouble with the authorities one too many times, but his deeds during the Quest of Erebor have been invaluable. I was alarmed to know he is being set for execution before all of Erebor. I do not know what happened between him and Nrar but I can not think of anything that would warrant the death of one dwarf in the hands of another._

_I’m writing to you to offer asylum to Nori in your land. Change his name, give him a new home and identity, do whatever you can, but I beg you to take him._

_Whatever Nori did, he does not deserve this._

_Waiting your response as soon as possible,  
Kíli _

* * *

Kíli was at a loss for what to do. He and Varis had made plans to draw Nrar out of his bedroom, but after Nori’s clue Kíli felt that keeping Nrar would be the better option.

However, it opened the door for Nrar’s advances again. Kíli still feigned illness whenever he could, but he could not escape Nrar forever. And Nrar did not need Kíli’s entire body. But as much as Kíli detested Nrar’s hands over his body, he equally abhorred filling his mouth with Nrar. But he was running out of reasons to evade him. If he could just get closer, try to weasel the truth out of him… 

He wondered when was the last time he’s ever seen Nrar without them. Truth be told, he never did. Even when he was stripped of all other clothing, Nrar kept on his gloves. 

Were there messages tattooed on his skin? Or some jewelry, or perhaps scars created by some dark force? 

As Nrar slept Kíli attempted to slip the glove off only to rouse him. Nothing could slip under his radar, and risking awaking him meant being pinned to the bed, suffocating in Nrar’s lust. Nrar need for release had intensified since his absence. He was at times waking Kíli in the middle of the night at least once or twice even if Kíli had done everything to satisfy his need. It was quickly tiring Kíli. 

He came to detest the very thought of intimacy again; some nights he silently wept as he wondered if he would despise sex if it was with someone else. He dwelled on what intimacy with Bofur would be like, if he would be left feeling sick to his stomach after having Bofur’s hands over his body. And though he never desired for such relationship, he had before wondered what it would be like with her, the elf who captivated him during his imprisonment in Mirkwood, her long arms around him and her silvery laugh filling his ears as her bright eyes peer into his. 

“But that would be lovemaking, may it be with Tauriel or Bofur,” Kíli thought. “It would be nicer, I imagine. Not like this. This isn’t even lovemaking. It’s rape. Even if it is me coming up to him to pleasure him, it is still rape. I am still being raped!” 

He could almost scream into his pillow. 

“You are restless tonight, my little whore,” Nrar whispered in his ear, his hand coming up to fondle Kíli’s chest. Kíli almost screamed right there, from anger and disgust and helplessness. He controlled his face to that of content before shifting around to look at Nrar. 

“Love…you always wear those gloves!” he said. “I wonder what it would be like to feel your bare hands on me.” 

Nrar’s smile faltered for but a moment. He took his right hand and slipped off the glove, revealing - nothing. His skin was smooth, with no marks or scars or any jewelry. He brought his hand down, and Kíli instantly regretted his ploy. Feeling the bare skin was even worse somehow, and to his dismay he saw that only the right hand was ungloved. 

“Enjoying it, dirty one?” Nrar slipped his hand downward, and a gasp escaped Kíli’s lips unmeaningly. 

“Nori, may you never cause mischief again for what I’m going through for you,” Kíli thought bitterly before giving in. 

When he at last found sleep, Kíli’s dreams were filled with the mountain wights ripping apart each of his friends before his eyes before making their way for the nearby elven kingdom. There were no survivors.

* * *

Bombur’s fourth child was an adorable little thing. Round cheeks, a tiny mouth, and thick hair and beard, she eyed Nori shyly. She must have reached adulthood very recently, if Nori had to guess, though he couldn’t be certain.

He looked about himself, at his mother’s new home, which turned out to be empty when he entered. He turned back to Aprir and folded his arms. 

“I came here because I thought my mother was ill,” he said. “Care to tell me what’s going on?” 

Aprir gave a tiny squeak. “I don’t want to say too much, b-b-because the walls have ears.” Nori raised an eyebrow. “But I want you to…to…how much do you know of the happenings in this kingdom?” 

“Not a lot. Why?” 

She undid the lacing of her blouse, and Nori couldn’t resist rolling his eyes at the display. “You know how this will look to others, don’t you? Let’s hope the walls don’t also have eyes…” 

Aprir pulled out a parchment. “Please, don’t say anything. _Please_.” 

Nori took the letter impatiently from her and read, but as his eyes scanned, annoyance was soon replaced with shock, then outrage, then livid fury. 

“And _no one_ has spoken about this?” he said. 

Aprir shook her head, then signed with her hands: _We agreed not to. Our king, not want. Doesn’t know we know._

“I cannot let this go on,” Nori thought. Isolated as he was from dwarvish ways, this behavior was unheard of. It was simply horrific. “If Kíli doesn’t want this, then it’s up to us to rid of Nrar.” 

_We cannot expel him. Too dangerous. Hurt other dwarves_ , Nori signed to Aprir. _I follow Nrar._ Her eyes widened as the implications of his words hit her. 

_Kin slayer?_

Nori smirked. _At least let the first be for good_. 

They both stood still as they heard the door of the house creak open. Nori folded Aprir’s paper and bid her a good day before leaving.

* * *

“Have you contacted your mother while I was away?” Nrar asked. His attention were barely on his breakfast as his eyes scrutinized the crown on Kíli’s head.

“I tried, but I never got a response,” Kíli said. It was the truth. He had tried once during Nrar’s absence but never again, too distraught by the continuing silence and what it meant. 

“And you did not tell me this?” 

“I must have forgotten, what with Nori’s situation.” Kíli shrugged. “I’m trying to remain optimistic they will come sooner or later.” 

“There’s parchment and ink in one of your desk drawers. Been writing to a lot of people?” 

“Just my mother,” Kíli said, hoping his face was not glowing red. 

“You just said she never replied.” 

“Well, then that was from a long time ago,” Kíli said, chuckling lightly. 

Nrar’s eyes narrowed. “I counted the slips of parchment the first day back. There was one missing two days ago.” 

“You’ve been keeping count?” Kíli remained still, hoping his heart’s pounding couldn’t be heard. He took another spoonful of porridge. “One of the servants must have taken it then.” 

“A mere servant reaching into the king’s drawer? No - you are being dishonest with me!” 

Kíli looked up, still and silent. He could have sworn Nrar’s amber eyes were suddenly more red than before. “You keep secrets from me! Tell me, who were you writing to!” 

“Only my mother, I promise you!” 

Nrar slammed his fists on the table then grabbed Kíli by the collar, shaking him violently. “It better not be Dain or I will slit your throat over your breakfast and force it all down your throat, do you hear me, slut?” 

He threw Kíli back on his seat. The tears teemed up. 

“What is your inner name?” Nrar said suddenly. “It’s all I need to know, to know that you trust me with your entire life. You keep saying you love me, but your actions…you only take what you want from me. You’re disgusting.” 

Kíli shook his head. “I cannot give you my name until I know yours. I’ve never shared it with anyone outside family. Please understand it’s such a strange thing for me.” 

Nrar was still glaring down at him, but Kíli pushed on. “Perhaps tonight? We both will open up?” 

“And why is my name so vital to you?” 

“So that I’ll know that you love me that deeply in return.” 

The strike across his face came too fast before he could dodge it. He fell backwards onto the floor, but quickly rose up, his arm around his stomach. 

“I need to…”

Nrar snorted. “May as well not mess this room any more with your presence. Leave, now!” 

Kíli ran into the lavatory and vomited his entire breakfast. Afterwards he washed himself, letting the tears fall. How long has it been since he’s felt so shattered? He worked so hard in building himself to be stronger, but in the end he was still terrified of Nrar. 

“I don’t deserve it,” he kept telling the reflection in the mirror. “I don’t deserve it. 

“And I am not weak.” Truth be told, Nrar was getting stronger. Something in his travels had brought upon new power Kíli had never seen before. 

Kíli left, and he passed by many dwarves who Nrar had collected in his travels. All military sort from what Kíli had seen thus far. They were filling the royal halls, but there was no need for them. 

One of them tried to stop Kíli from leaving the halls. 

“I have to see Varis about my condition,” Kíli spat and marched past the dwarf. In truth he didn’t know where he was going. For the first time in a year he felt a need to be away from his own halls, his own room. Away from Nrar. 

He should have laughed when he finally realized where his feet were taking him. 

“Kíli!” Bofur greeted. “It’s been so long, I’ve been hoping to see y-” 

He stopped when he took notice of Kíli’s bloodshot eyes. Bofur sat him down in his office, and Kíli told him everything in a whisper starting from when Nrar returned. In all the while neither were aware that their hands were entwined, that Bofur’s thumb stroked Kíli’s knuckles comfortingly, that they spoke just an inch away from each other. 

“You are not weak, no,” Bofur said. 

“I tell myself that,” Kíli said. “But I cannot deny Nrar has gotten stronger. He’s done something to himself. I think Nori knows what it is, and that’s why Nrar plans on executing him. And I cannot stop him.” 

“What if you brought up his behavior?” 

Kíli laughed lightly. “It won’t be easy. Everyone sees us as such a loving couple. He wears such a big grin when we’re seen in public, as if he couldn’t be happier to have found someone like me. But when we’re alone…I don’t know what side of him I’m going to get. He’s either violently passionate…or just violent.” 

“What about Varis?” 

“The only files he has about me are fabrications. At this point anything I say will only make it seem like I’m stringing lies just to save a thief. I feel so powerless.” 

Bofur wrapped an arm around him, and Kíli rested his head on Bofur’s chest. “I understand you more than you know, lad.” 

Kíli bit his lower lip. He had been warring with himself for the longest time on whether he should ask this. 

“Bofur…when you say things like that…what do you mean? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Bofur gave Kíli’s shoulder a little squeeze. “I don’t mind. The man was just like how Nrar looks to the world. Charismatic, someone who knew exactly the things to say to make you happy. I was young, only in my twenties. Most dwarves don’t begin working in that age, but I needed money and food. It was only Bombur and me for a while while Bifur lived away. Finding work was a bit of a problem. Most dwarves didn’t think I should try my hand until I was a little older, but then I went among the Menfolk and met a very nice man. Young he seemed, mostly for his lack of beard. He showed me the basics of forging, and gave me a coin every day for simple tasks. It wasn’t much, but he promised that the more dedication I showed the more money he would give me. He always fed me plenty and was good company, so of course I would return every day. 

“He had a wife as well who sometimes helped around. They were always commenting about me amongst themselves, telling me what an adorable young dwarf I was. One day they cornered me and asked how one could tell the difference between a dwarf lad and lass. They forced me to show them my own body, and they…well, when they were done, I was left feeling so sick I never returned there. I wrote to Bifur and begged him to come live with us. I didn’t dare work out of fear until Bifur encouraged me. He never asked what happened, but he guessed enough. He’s been with us ever since, and all three of us never parted from each other again.” 

Kíli wiped away the tears. “I kept wishing I was misreading the signs, that you had not gone through that. And so young! And your situation, just like Lofar. Mahal, I am so disgusted with myself!” 

Bofur kissed the top of his head. “It’s okay,” he said softly, though Kíli could hear his friend silently weeping as well. They held each other until Kíli gently pushed away. 

“I feel like I’m about to throw up again,” he said weakly. “Just thinking about… _that_ …I can’t ever imagine it as something beautiful! I am sorry, I don’t want to be touched right now.”

“Do not apologize,” Bofur said, and he scooted away from Kíli in respect. “And it’s fine to hate it if that is not your thing. It took me years to make peace with it.” 

“You never married though?” Kíli asked. 

Bofur shook his head. “But living with a brother who is very much the opposite of me and very much active with his wife, who I might add isn’t the most quiet in bed…well, as much as I was initially shocked, I came to find the whole thing rather amusing.” 

Kíli laughed. “Have you seen Glori?” 

“She’s been in a right state,” Bofur said. “She’s visiting Nori as much as she can, but the guards watch their every move. They’ll only allow her and his brothers. The rest of us cannot see him, so we’ve been getting news from them.” 

Kíli nodded, rubbing his stomach. A low grumble. 

“Would you like to eat?” Bofur asked. 

“I threw up what I ate this morning,” Kíli said. “But I’m feeling hungry again.” 

“Think you can handle a meal right now? I’ll take you to Bifur and we can all have a little break together.” 

Kíli smiled. “All right. But please…tell him nothing.” 

“I won’t.” 

“What does he think about Nori’s situation?” 

“Oh, he’s been ranting about it ever since. He’s so livid but Bombur and I keep telling him to cool it. If you ask me, the new dwarves who’ve come with Nrar…there’s something peculiar about them. _But I should not say more_.” 

The last part was whispered as he led Kíli out of his office, and Kíli saw why. One of Nrar’s new men was standing not too far away, watching them. They made their way to Bifur’s toy shop in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. But they put on a cheerful facade once inside, greeting Bifur and the customers. They sent a dwarfling to call forth Bombur to bring in sweets. 

“We’ll have brunch and lunch and afternoon tea all together!” Bofur said, “It’s the middle of the week and we’re all worked to death!” 

“Planning on becoming a hobbit?” Bifur teased, poking Bofur’s growing belly. 

“Still trying to get my gut to equal yours in size first,” Bofur shot back and all three laughed. Kíli hoped his laughter did not sound forced to Bifur. He knew Bofur was clowning around just to lift his spirits, despite his own earlier tears, but for once Bofur’s jubilance wasn’t affecting Kíli. He kept thinking of his earlier conversation with Nrar. 

It wasn’t the first time Nrar asked for his inner name, and Kíli had little excuse against that. He supposed he could do some massive elaborate hoax where he’d fake an injury that resulted in amnesia, but otherwise his continual silence was proof enough to Nrar of his true feelings for him. 

_“If you don’t get up now, I will carve your inner-name on our doorsteps and the mountain wights will get your soul!”_ Kíli’s sister Míli’s word rang back to his mind. It was all childish fun, but in that moment he felt the world spin around him. 

He paid little attention when Bombur arrived, carrying large trays of sweets and drinks, with Aprir helping him along. They invited any of the customers to take some food with them, and a few remained behind to sing songs for their king. 

Kíli found it difficult to eat, as his mind wondered how Nori was able to consume food, if it was at all possible. The thought of Glori, sitting on the floor and helping soup down Nori’s throat… 

Bifur was having them - Bofur, Bombur, and Kíli - help with gathering more supplies from the back room when Kíli finally couldn’t handle it any longer. He locked the door behind them and approached the three, his voice quivering and quiet yet clear. 

“Bîrahzêm.” 

“Pardon?” Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur asked. 

“My inner name,” Kíli said quietly. “I want you both to know it.” 

Bofur’s eyes lit with understand, though Bifur was still confused. “But, Kíli…”

“I trust and love you all with my entire life,” Kíli said. “I do not give my name freely, trust me. I am…afraid. I want someone to have my name in case something happens to me.” 

“Is someone hurting you?” Bombur asked. 

“I’ve been having problems with…a servant,” Kíli said, hating that he was lying when he had promised not to any longer, even if it was a half lie. “I fear someone is trying to control me by using my name.” 

“Kíli placed his inner name into a doll and was worried they would find it,” Bofur explained. “I have the doll with me.” 

Bifur and Bombur nodded, though silent. Bofur smiled. 

“It’s a beautiful name, by the way,” he marveled. “‘The one who grows stronger from hardship.’ It fits you.” 

Kíli returned the smile. It was said that a dwarf’s inner name was the most special gift a mother could give for it was something she had seen when looking into her child’s eyes. The name always fascinated him when he was younger, pondering how his mother could see this trait in him. 

Bofur stepped forward and whispered in Kíli’s ear. “Kharêz.” 

Kíli felt tears well up in his eyes. ‘Hope.’ “You name is beautiful too.” Bofur was so close to him that Kíli wanted to brush his lips against his, but in that moment Bofur stepped back and Bifur leaned forward. 

“Akhâzabad.” ‘Unshakable mountain.’ 

Kíli glanced at him in confusion. Bifur smiled. “In case I am slain in battle and you want to resurrect me to keep fighting alongside you.” 

Kíli gave a teary laugh and embraced him. 

It was Bombur’s turn to lean close. “Zikar-zîn.” ‘Mind with a thousand mazes.’ 

With each reveal Kíli felt his heart swelling, connecting with them at a level deeper than before. It was as though he was seeing them for the first time, more intimately, feeling their souls closer than his own skin. It was the same feeling he had in knowing his family members’ names, a trust so deep and intimate. 

“So the body, the mind, and the heart,” Kíli said, grinning. 

“And the spirit,” Bofur added, nodding towards him, and the others nodded. 

“Thank you,” he whispered to them, and they made their way back to the shop. Aprir had set out more food for them and the costumers, and they ate and told jokes to one another as though nothing extraordinary had taken place inside the back room. 

As Bifur and his cousins were busy with their talk, Aprir leaned towards Kíli. “I feel responsible for what I’ve done.”

Kíli shook his head. “Nori would never blame you.” Perhaps a little, he added in his mind, but only in bitter jest. 

Aprir seemed to think along the same lines as him. “My king, I know you’ve been sending letters. My family’s bird Tora told me. I’ve been on the lookout since, because I was worried Nrar would find out, so I wanted to take any message for you before he did.” 

She pushed a folded paper towards him.

“It arrived this morning, my king. It’s from Dain.”

* * *

For many months Nori followed Nrar and his men, his presence never known. He was well versed in sneaking about, moving and never being seen, slipping between rocks and remaining hidden until it was safe for him to slither out. He had evaded many arrests that way, and he had also used this method when plotting to kill a goblin.

He kept his distance to avoid rousing suspicion. Should one of the dwarves look back they would see, if they did catch him, as only a lonesome goblin kicking at the dirt, for disguise was one of Nori’s specialities he’d learned in his many travels. Smearing mud over his face and pulling over a mask he had made long ago, his face was distorted enough that from a distance he could never be mistaken for a dwarf. His steps were light and flighty, much unlike the heavy steps of his race; and his head darted around as if sniffing for any orc that may come to kill him. 

If ever he was spotted, he was left alone. Though the peoples of Middle-earth loathed goblins as much as orcs, Nori had long learned from experience that no harm would come to a goblin unless it attacked first. 

Nrar led his men to the East most regions of the world, well past the Orocarni, though Nrar never stopped to the main dwarven cities, to barren lands and old grave sites. Before every dwarven tomb Nrar’s men would stop, and Nrar would go inside. For an hour or two he’d remain, and when he returned it was with more dwarves, perhaps who had been waiting to meet him there. It was difficult to discern from the distance in which Nori watched them. 

Once they reached the Eastern shores Nrar turned south then back west. To various tombs was all he seemed to go to, and each time his party grew larger. 

Nori had been watching Nrar in hopes of finding some means in which he can get close enough to kill him, but Nrar was well-protected. Nori much desired to slip into the tombs with him, but every inch of Nrar were guarded by the loyal servants. 

As they were reaching the deserts of Umbar, Nori was finding it harder to remain behind. He needed to get closer, but it meant changing out of his appearance of a goblin. He turned to his grey cloak. It was not elven made though he sought to replicate their cloaks as much as he could. Once worn, it was meant to disguise him, blend him into the night. It had its flaws. It was no where as perfect as what the elves must have had, but it had gotten Nori out of trouble a few times. 

To his relief the traveling party had finally made camp. They seldom rested and only slept before picking up the trail again at the early hours of the morning. But tonight they made camp early in the evening, setting up fires for their dinner and putting up tents. An intent to remain here for a few days. 

“This will give me time to formulate a plan,” Nori thought, eager to work. He did not like seeing Nrar, the smugness on his face. He walked with such arrogance, and the thought of what he had done to Kíli, the last of Durin’s direct line, propelled Nori to hasten Nrar’s demise. 

He waited one night when he was able to slip past the guards. There was a tall palm tree which overlooked Nrar’s tent. Nori climbed it and peeked through a tiny slit in the roof. Nrar was inside, his back turned. After shifting around, Nori decided there were no mirrors. He could easily slip right in. No one was watching. 

Nrar didn’t hear Nori enter, his dagger ready, held tight in his hand. He was about ready to strike when _it_ caught his eye. 

The years of thieving, of searching and dealing with frauds have all taught him much in differentiating between real and replicated artifacts. And what Nrar had was the real ring. Even in the dimness it shone so bright with the dark power that burned within it. 

“How has he come in possession of this?” Nori wondered. “They were all destroyed.” Nori knew what it was, for its history fascinated him in his youth, and his mind instantly reeled back to Kíli, of the warning he had to give him. The other warriors, they were - 

In that exact moment, Nrar spun around, his face stretched in a cold grin. The dagger was knocked off Nori’s hand, and before Nori could react, Nrar seized him by the throat. 

“How much did you see?” Nrar demanded in a low voice. 

“My king will know of this!” Nori spat, struggling against the bind around his neck. “You bring shame into the race of dwarves!” 

Nrar chuckled. “But I am your king, thief.” 

He brought up a knife into Nori’s mouth, and with one flick of his wrist, Nori tongue was cut off. 

“But you must be referring to my little whore Kíli. How will you tell him now?” Nrar said, grinning. 

He called out to his guards, crying out for aid. Nori was seized by a dozen dwarves who punched and kicked him till he nearly vomited. But he held back. Blood dribbled down his chin and every bone in his body ached, but Nori raised his head, glaring at Nrar with utmost hatred, and gave him a rude hand gesture. He jumped up to attack, but was instantly pinned down to the ground by a guard. 

“That will not do,” Nrar said, laughing. “Attempting to rob and kill a king, and now dishonoring? Guards, tie him! We will settle this like adults in a few days. For now, I must rest.” 

Nori’s entire body was placed in a bind, and they dragged him into a corner of Nrar’s tent. There he remained, exposed to Nrar’s gloating, and was never fed, and what remained of his tongue never tended to. It was a miracle he didn’t die from the blood loss. 

The trial took place a few days later, but all it consisted of was Nrar spinning a grand tale of his battle with Nori to the entire army. When it was over, they cut off his hands, and his beard was then shaved before everyone, who jeered and laughed at him. 

For the remainder of Nrar’s travels, Nori was subjected to ridicule and taunts. Nrar’s men regularly inflicted pain on him, kicking him, ripping at his hair, and spitting in his eyes. Nrar himself did not refrain, but he took it further, taking Nori to his tent and forcing onto him the same pain he had inflicted on Kíli many times before. 

“Not as enjoyable as Kíli, I’m afraid,” Nrar muttered as he laced up his leggings. “I will need to seek him once I’m back; how I missed tasting his tears as I rip him in half.” Nrar chuckled. “I’m afraid you didn’t satisfy me as much.”

Nori let out a roar, struggling against his binds. “Sick bastard,” he wished to yell, to strangle and do away with the fell creature. 

Nori could feel that Nrar was growing stronger. It was as though an aura was about him, filling him with might never possessed by any living being. Nori knew it was from the ring on his finger, which Nrar kept gloved. He had tried biting it off in the couple of times when Nrar was up against him, but he failed and only earned himself a few slaps or kicks to the groin. 

They kept Nori’s face clean of his beard, quick to shave him whenever it grew back. Around his neck was tied a leech and he was forced to walk among them in the front, to be seen by any dwarf or manfolk they passed. Nori walked with his head held high, ignoring the whispers about him, the jeers, the spits landing on his face. 

He cared for none of that. Kíli was his main concern, and how to rely to the young king of the extent of the danger he and his kingdom was in. 

The dwarves traveling to Erebor. They weren’t -

* * *

Nori looked up at the sound of the metal bar door banging open. Kíli stood before him, his eyes boring down on him. He was dressed elegantly today in black velvet and red, his hair and beard braided in an intricate design, and his crown was shining gold. His hands were folded in front of him. A few steps behind him stood two guards.

“Thief, as King Under the Mountain I am to lead you to your execution,” Kíli said coldly, his eyes never leaving Nori. 

Nori gave him a dirty look before something caught his eye. But he couldn’t look at it, at least not directly. It spoke of the sort of understanding the two had developed over the course of the Quest, that Kíli knew Nori could see so well without needing to look at something directly. Nori read Kíli’s signed message without ever leaving his gaze on Kíli’s face. 

“My regent and husband Nrar will read out your verdict and sentence,” Kíli said. Another message. “You may beg for appeal of his decision, if your worthless mouth can produce any sound.” 

With an agitated growl, Nori jumped up, but the two guards were quick and held him back. One was studying him suspiciously, but Nori paid him no attention. He peered into Kíli’s eyes, staring intently until Kíli blinked, understanding. 

“You have done much in hurting my husband,” Kíli said. “May your execution be slow and painful.

“Guards, escort him.” 

With one guard on each side of Nori, the chains still around his wrists, they followed Kíli through the tunnel of the prisons and into the back hall. It would be a long walk to the throne room where Nrar would read Nori’s verdict and sentence, and then another walk to the chamber where they had agreed to carry the execution. 

There was plenty of time. 

Nori walked until he found his chance. He gave out an ear-splitting shriek and jolted forward, hooping the chain around Kíli’s neck, tugging tightly before smashing him against the wall. The guards were close behind, but Nori had moved with such swiftness that he spun around and flung around the chain, striking out one of the guard’s eyes and smashing into the teeth of the other. 

Without another glance at Kíli, Nori bolted away, searching for the hidden tunnel. The tunnel was dark, so dark that the longer he ran and less sure he was certain he had picked the right path. Was this the right direction? Was he headed towards the outside, or would he land himself straight into Nrar’s hand? He held his chains close to his chest for fear of it making too much noise. He was certain he heard a few dwarves, could feel someone walking about not too far off…

Just as his legs were about to give up, Nori saw a slit of light before him. He made a dash for the light, and suddenly he was wrapped in the arms of a tall hooded figure. He blinked in the bright sunlight and glanced about, taking note that it was one of the Menfolk of Lake-town. He carried Nori into his carriage, covering him up with hay. 

The cart set off soon after. Through a tiny hole Nori watched as Erebor grew smaller, praying that he hadn’t hurt Kíli too much.

* * *

Kíli rubbed his neck, wincing. He had communicated to Nori to be as rough with him as possible in the hopes that the more genuine the injuries the more likely their plan would be covered up. And Nori did not hold back. Kíli’s shoulder and hips screeched with pain from where they made contact with the stone wall, and the chains had drawn a thin line of blood from his neck.

But these weren’t wounds Kíli couldn’t heal from. After ordering one of the guards to search for Nori, Kíli was was helped by the remaining guard back to the throne room where Nrar stood waiting impatiently. 

“My love, I’m afraid he’s gone,” Kíli said. “He’s attacked me and run off.” 

Before Nrar could respond, the guard joined them followed by a few more of the king’s guards. “We have searched everywhere, my king,” he told Kíli. “The thief is gone.” 

“Gone?” Kíli spat. “Did you search every corner of this kingdom? Look for him!” 

The guard nodded and left with his men, leaving Kíli and Nrar alone. Kíli touched his shoulder and winced at the pain. 

“I do not know what he was thinking,” Kíli said gently. “After everything he’s done for my uncle, I thought I could always trust him…but he will not get away, I assure you, my love.” 

But Nrar didn’t respond. There was a malicious light in his eyes, his teeth ground against each other, and his fists were clenched. But Kíli wasn’t afraid, not when he saw the fear in Nrar’s eyes. The thought of eliciting this from Nrar gave Kíli a great satisfaction, though he was careful not to let it show. 

But any feeling of victory was soon dashed as Nrar closed the space between them and grabbed hold of Kíli’s wrist. 

“You helped him escape,” he hissed dangerously, his lips quivering, and tugged Kíli towards their bedroom.


	11. Killing Kíli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for graphic violence and rape. There is also some form of humiliation. This is perhaps the darkest chapter, but I do promise things will look up after this.

_Dear Kíli,_

_I must admit your letter disturbed me. In all my life I had never known Nrar to become this violent, no matter what the offending dwarf had done. I will be sending you another letter soon with information on how to get Nori to me. I may enlist in the help of one of the menfolk of Lake-town, but for now I wish for you have this letter as soon as possible._

_Kíli, I want you to be honest with me. Has Nrar done anything else or is this an isolated incident? I am especially worried for your well-being. I would hate to have introduced someone into your life that brought you pain. I cannot imagine Nrar hurting anyone for he was like a brother to me, but executing a dwarf on the premise of just petty theft is simply not justifiable in the least._

_Awaiting your reply,  
Dain Ironfoot_

* * *

_Dear Kíli,_

_Your friend Nori is safe now. I was horrified at seeing the extent of the damage done to him. Healers have examined him, and I’m afraid his left arm had become infected. We needed to amputate most of his left arm, but other than this he is doing fine._

_I hope you are well, cousin. You haven’t replied to my last inquiry, but I hope you know you can trust me with anything. Do you need me to see you? It has been a long time, and we are family. Perhaps a visit would do good for both of us, as I also need to speak with Nrar._

_Your cousin,  
Dain Ironfoot_

* * *

_Dear Kíli,_

_A month has passed without your reply. I am growing deeply concerned. Huginn tells me you are not there to accept the letters, but rather it has been a friend in your place. Aprir I believe the name is? If this is Aprir who is reading this letter, please reply to me._

_At your service,  
Dain Ironfoot_

* * *

Nrar’s fingers gripped Kíli’s wrist, his fingers digging into the skin. After he slammed the bedroom door behind them, he shoved Kíli away in disgust. 

“You helped him escape, do not lie to me!” Nrar said. “Where did you take him? Answer me!” 

Kíli quickly readjusted himself, standing stiff. “He’s somewhere safe and far from your reach. I was not going to have a dwarf die by the hand of another in my mountain!” 

“ _Your_ mountain? Do not call yourself a king, filth!” 

“I am the rightful heir of the throne!” Kíli shrieked. He took a step towards Nrar, his rage exploding inside him. He was not going to let Nrar intimidate him, not any more. He was going to give Nrar a taste of his own medicine. “I do not need you running this kingdom. I do not need you any longer, and you are excused from my service!” 

“Do not raise your voice at me! A whore never raises their voice!” 

Kíli’s fist came over Nrar’s face with such force that he staggered backwards, his eyes wide with shock. Kíli drew an intake of breath; how long he’s wanted to do this, to turn the tables. 

“Get out of my kingdom, _fiend_ ,” he hissed. 

Nrar rubbed the red area on his face, studying Kíli. “You do not want me? And after all I did for you, ungrateful swine. I helped you rebuild this kingdom when others were ready to leave from your own incompetence!” 

“You had indeed helped me, I will not deny that for I am no liar,” Kíli said. “But you built it over a foundation of my suffering, and secrecy!” 

“Secrecy!” Nrar roared with laughter. “Says the dwarf who doesn’t even share his true name to his bond-mate!” 

“Do not change the subject!” 

“Oh, but this is the subject! If we are to be more honest with each other, then tell me: What is your inner name?” 

“What is yours?” Kíli shot back. “And if you value honesty so much, then tell me what do you keep hidden under your glove? Nori told me there was something you kept hidden.” 

At those words Nrar’s eyes burned bright, the fear in them again. Kíli smirked. 

“Nori needed neither tongue nor hands to tell me what he suffered for,” Kíli said. “What is in your glove?” 

But the regent wasn’t listening. “How?” Nrar whispered to himself, his eyes studying Kíli until an understanding came over him. “I should have torn out his eyes!” 

“Oh, you would have. But don’t ignore my question. It is extremely rude of you to not answer the king! Tell, what do you keep hidden inside your glove? Answer truthfully or I will have _your_ hands cut off!” 

“I am not ignoring the question,” Nrar said. “Rather, it simply amuses me that a so-called king is pretending to be moral and calling for _honesty_ of all things when he himself has done inexcusable acts while in the absence of his spouse. Really, who are you to interrogate me?” 

Kíli blinked in confusion but said nothing. He hated the grin that seeped across Nrar’s face. 

“I have been asking many of my faithful servants, and they have revealed to me a most interesting bit of gossip about you.” 

“What do you mean?” Kíli said. 

“I mean, the men you have taken into this room, and this bed, in my place.” 

Kíli’s eyes widened in realization. “They are just friends!” 

“Just friends.” Nrar snorted. “Then explain why you were so revolted by my touch since I arrived back?” 

“I am ill, Varis and I already explained to you-”

“Ill you may be, but it does not answer the question! You detest my touch! Even when you say you enjoy it, I see how your entire body rejects me!” 

“Because I detest every thing about you!” Kíli snapped, and his voice rose until his lungs ached with his shrieks. “How is that for honesty? I never liked you! You forced yourself on me! You raped me! Do you not remember that or do you think I owed you your sick pleasure? But you forget who you’ve raped! I can go out there and reveal to my entire kingdom of your own filth, and you will suffer worse than Nori! I will be certain of that! I cannot wait to see you suffocating on your own cock lodge down your throat!” 

Nrar reacted so fast Kíli never had the chance to stop him. In an instant, Kíli was shoved against the wall, his robes torn off and his crown tossed to the side. He thought he heard his crown shatter on the floor, but he had no time to check. Another sound, of Nrar loosening his belt, jolted him into action. 

“You will enjoy this, whore!” Nrar hissed. “Dare to threaten me? And what of your punishment for your deeds!” 

Kíli wrestled Nrar off him, cursing loudly, but Nrar grabbed Kíli by the shoulders and threw him onto the bed and jumped on top of him. But Kíli’s moves were swift, having been trained so efficiently by Bifur. His arms flew out straight, holding Nrar in place, and his legs went flying, the first striking Nrar on the stomach and second a hard blow to the jaw. Nrar reeled back, gasping and sputtering blood. In that time Kíli jumped out of bed, reaching for Nrar’s own sword that had fell to the floor in the process of undoing his belt. Blood pounded in Kíli’s ears. He would be an unfavored king after this, but he did not care any more. After everything Nrar had done to him, the only part of Nrar Kíli wanted on his body was his blood. 

Suddenly he felt a sharp stab behind his knee that elected a pained cry. He dropped to the floor on his knees, and reached back to pull out a dagger. 

“I was aiming for your head,” Nrar hissed. Another stab made Kíli cry out louder as another knife plunged through his ankle, pinning him to the floor. 

“Nrar, what are you doing? Stop it! STOP IT!” Kíli shrieked. He made to call for his guards, but Nrar clamped his hand over his mouth. 

“You want to be rendered mute like your friend?” he said. 

Nrar grabbed Kíli by the roots of his hair, pulling back until Kíli thought his head would be ripped from his neck, and then pounded Kíli, face first, hard against the floor. On this went, Kíli tasting his own blood and spluttering pleas for Nrar to stop, until the world turned black. 

When Kíli came to, he was lying nude in bed. He made to move but then noticed that his wrists and legs were chained to the bedpost. 

“Nrar?” Kíli called out, his words garbled. “Why?” 

He felt someone slide next to him. His vision was blurry, but by the amber color of the beard he knew it was Nrar. 

“You hurt me so much, Kíli,” Nrar said softly. “I did so much because I loved you.”

A cool cream spread over Kíli’s chin. His eyes widened. “Nrar, don’t.” 

“You leave me no chance, love,” Nrar said calmly. He picked up a blade and sharped the edge. He glanced up back at Kíli. “I may change my mind if you cooperate.” 

“What do you want?” 

“Your inner name, love.” 

“Why is that so important to you?” 

A cold laugh. “We are bonded! I have every right to your name as I do to your body!” 

“The marriage contract means nothing if neither my name nor my body is given to you with consent!” 

In an instant, Nrar pushed Kíli’s head against the pillow, and the blade ran across his chin, razing off a fistful of beard. A chuckle followed as Nrar washed the blade in a mug of water. With tenderness he wiped away at Kíli’s soft chin. 

Kíli resisted the blade, throwing his head from side to side, but Nrar’s good-natured facade disappeared as his eyes suddenly blazed red. He threatened to behead Kíli then. “And the first thing I will do as king is rip off the head of that damn dwarf you were fucking in my absence!” 

Kíli didn’t need to ask who Nrar was thinking of. “I wasn’t bedding Bofur!” Kíli thought in horror, but his face burned red for he had fantasized how it would feel, to touch and kiss his close friend. But he did not dare to move, horrified for Bofur’s life. He lay motionless, feeling the blade, pressing dangerously against his skin, as his entire beard and mustache were shaven off. 

“So soft,” Nrar chuckled as he wiped the remaining cream. Kíli’s lower lip quivered, but he reminded himself that his beard will grow back. His hair always grew fast. 

But Nrar did not stop there. Kíli’s body was rich with thick hair. Even as a child, Kíli had more body hair than his brother. He could not even remember a time when he was without it. All dwarves were born with facial and body hair, though it was vellus hair, soft to the touch, that thickened when they entered adulthood. But this softness which followed after every inch of him shaved - legs, arms, underarms, chest, torso, groin, and back - were so alien to Kíli. 

Kíli felt bile rise up, as though he was exposed in ways far deeper than ever before in front of Nrar. The regent inspected his body with mad lust, his erection visible through his robes. He kept stopping himself to explore every inch of Kíli he exposed before he could not endure his lust any longer. 

“Your locks of hair will wait till I am done,” Nrar said, slipping off his leggings. “I must enjoy this image first!” 

“My hair?” Kíli thought, feeling sicker. He could only feebly beg as Nrar pounded into him. 

"This retribution you have brought upon yourself," Nrar hissed in Kíli's ear. "I do not wish to hurt you, but you have hurt me so much with your deeds. How could you betray me?" 

“I didn’t,” Kíli gasped, cringing at the pain. 

“Where is the Arkenstone? Tell me and I may spare your hair!” 

Kíli shook his head and tried to fight off the pain as if his body was being ripped in two. 

After Nrar was done, he shaved off the rest of Kíli’s hair, letting the long locks fall around Kíli’s face and chest. The ends prickled over his bare skin, making him itch, and it was sad relief when Nrar brushed them away. 

“Remember this, scum, you have only shamed yourself in dishonoring me,” Nrar said before leaving.

* * *

The slightest movement made Kíli’s stomach turn. If it was not the excruciating pain from being taken without preparation, it was the odd sensation of being too bare, too soft and smooth. There was not a single hair on him, and Kíli wept as he tried to imagine how he must appear. Dwarves with shaved beards were considered shamed, but to be without any hair on his head or body was beyond humiliating. He wished he at least had a blanket, some kind of shield to protect him away from anyone’s eyes. 

But he was stuck in the position Nrar had placed him in, as he had left without covering Kíli’s body. Any servant who walked in would see him in this state, and all Kíli wanted in that moment was to be covered up from head to toe, to hide himself and his shame from the world. He wept himself to sleep, and only awoke when he felt a hand caressing his stomach before sliding down to his privates. 

“Nrar, stop!” Kíli snapped. 

“This is not Nrar,” said the voice, snickering, and before Kíli would see who it was the dwarf had already left the room.

* * *

Bombur was growing distraught. It has been a week since Nori had escaped, and neither he nor Bifur nor Bofur had heard of Kíli. No one has as much as even seen him. Janur and Febar were of no help, for Nrar has excused them both from service weeks ago. 

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Janur told him. “He has so many of those weird guards around him now, and I don’t like Kíli being alone with them.” 

Aprir, who was looking over a piece of parchment, glanced up at them. 

“Kíli’s a strong one,” Bombur said. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that.” 

But the truth was, Bombur was horribly worried. Bifur and Bofur knew something about Kíli that Bombur could only piece together. Whatever was happening, his friend and king had been locked in a struggle with Nrar. Bifur told him very little, a strange thing as Bifur typically never held back in his rants. But Bofur told Bombur as much as he was willing to give. Bombur knew there was more to the story. 

He never was fond of that marriage. 

Having devised a plan, he made his way to the royal chambers himself. With measuring and marking supplies packed in a tool kit, he was going to pretend he was on some duty for the king. Hopefully he’ll see Kíli there. 

Several of the guards stared at him but said nothing. Bombur just brushed past them without another thought. Some of these guards should have gotten used to him when he and his family dined with Kíli. 

He checked the throne room and the two dining halls, all the while pretending he was taking measurement of the door frame. Not finding Kíli in any of them, he headed next for Kíli’s bedroom. 

“And what are you doing?” a smooth voice said behind Bombur. 

“Hello,” Bombur greeted Nrar cheerfully. “The king had requested me to make new door frames for every room. They’re a bit outdated, I’m afraid. Doesn’t fit much with the new designs of the common houses right now.”

Nrar’s eyes narrowed. “Had he? He never told me.” 

“Perhaps he didn’t want to trouble you, as I’m sure you too have your hands full,” Bombur said. “Ah, would that be his bedroom? Have you seen the king? I wanted to go over with him again on some of the designs.”

“ _Kíli_ isn’t here,” Nrar said. 

Bombur glanced back at the bedroom as a sudden ill feeling crept up in him. “Oh, has he went on a trip?” 

“Yes, he is away,” Nrar said flatly. “Do not come here until you are called, servant.” 

“I am an architect, sir,” Bombur said. “And I am acting on order of the king.” 

“I do not care what you are.” Nrar’s eyes scanned Bombur quickly as a sneer crept on his face. Bombur felt his face burn red; though Bofur and Bifur and he always teased each other on their weight, anyone else would have their bones crushed. 

Nrar took a step closer, his grin suddenly gone. A strange new light sparked in his eyes. “You are one of them, one of the dwarves he’s taken. A servant said there was a very fat one among them.” 

“Pardon?” 

Nrar shook his head, suddenly jolly. He clamped Bombur on the shoulder. “Oh, do not take what I say seriously! I must have had a few too many drinks. It’s been so lonely without my love Kíli. You have a good day.” 

Bombur thanked Nrar and made his way back, the unease in his stomach spreading throughout his body.

* * *

The servants and guards, those who were closest to Nrar, regularly visited Kíli to prod and mock the exposed dwarf. Kíli could not move, could not shield himself and could not protect himself from their gaze, their fingers, or the long sticks they bought to experiment with him. Some brought tiny feathers to see what would happen if they tickle his soft belly; others tested their weapons on him. “Killing Kíli” was the name of the game they played. 

Licks, kisses, punches, kicks, spits, cuts, strokes, tickles - all of this and more were inflicted on Kíli. But perhaps the worst of all was realizing that Nrar wasn’t the only one raping him any more. The new guards delighted in eliciting pained cries from him. 

They especially enjoyed it when the hair grew back on him. His hair was thick, and it hurt whenever they grew back. The need to itch racked his body as millions of tiny pinpricks exploded throughout. But he could barely move; he could only endure the uncomfortable sensation, and just as his body was settling down again, they came and shaved him from head to toe again. 

Kíli remembered his lie to Bifur and Bofur long ago, that it was the servants who hurt him, and he wept at how it had become a horrible reality. 

“At least I’m no longer a liar,” he thought bitterly. 

When food was brought into the room, it was placed close to Kíli’s head so that he could smell the tantalizing aroma, but no one ever fed him. Mugs of water and ale were held before him but never brought close to his lips. His bonds were never released even when he needed a bathroom, and so he had to relieve himself on the bed. This always brought upon more abuse by Nrar and his men, so Kíli tried to hold it in as long as his weakening body could. 

He never slept either; may it be Nrar or a guard, someone would come and rudely awaken him, shaking him out of much-needed slumber then proceed to laugh at his crying when he could not fall back asleep. 

Kíli didn’t know how long it was before he slipped into hallucinations after all the days - or weeks or months - of not eating, drinking, or sleeping. He began seeing the mountain wights, prodding and teasing him, jeering and raping him, their pale strange faces twisted with sadistic mirth. 

“Love, this can all end if you tell me your inner name,” Nrar’s voice would break through. “Or at least tell us where the Arkenstone is, and you will be at peace again.” 

“I can’t, I shouldn’t,” Kíli thought. 

The torment continued.

* * *

“It’s been a month, Bofur!” 

“Bombur, I am sure everything is fine,” Bofur said, but he didn’t believe the words himself, and Bombur could see that. Bofur’s body was shaking. Since Nori’s escape Kíli was not seen, and all he could think was that Nrar had done something. “Any chance Nori needed him to go to the Iron Hills?” 

“But why?” Bombur said as he paced. “That wasn’t in the plan at all!” 

Bofur gave a deep sigh, dropping that one feeble hope. “I want to go back there.” 

“Don’t. You know what I told you before, about what Nrar said to me. ‘You are one of them, one of the dwarves he’s taken.’ I didn’t like the sound of that.” 

“Do you think he’s accusing us of-”

“What else? His men were watching us - you, me, and Bifur - when we were helping Kíli sleep! They probably thought he was inviting us all to his bed.” Bombur shuddered. “I don’t have a good feeling about any of this.” 

“Bombur, _please_ , stop saying this!” 

“I’m a father of thirteen, brother! I sense it whenever someone’s injured! Kíli’s still in the mountain! Nrar’s keeping him in the bedroom, I bet!” 

Bofur jumped to his feet, his hands over his mouth. “What if he’s locked in there…cannot escape,” he said under his breath. “Oh Mahal! We have to tell Bifur! We’ve been making too many stories to get his suspicions away from Nrar, telling him the culprit left Erebor-” 

“And do you know what he’ll do?” Bombur’s voice pitched up higher. “Bifur’s not going to stand for it, but Nrar’s the one with the army! And Nrar’s army aren’t normal! We will have an entire war breaking out in Erebor itself!”

“And we can defeat them!” 

“Really, brother? Have you seen the size of the army he had brought into Erebor?” Bombur took a deep sigh. “I know how much you care for Kíli. We all do. But think of the lives that may be lost if we attempt this.” 

“So you’re welling to just throw Kíli in there?” 

“I never said that! I’m trying to think of a plan!” 

“We cannot be sitting here thinking of a plan! Bombur, _HE COULD BE TAKING AWAY KÍLI’S LIFE IN THIS MOMENT!_ ” Bofur shrieked, his voice cracking as the tears rolled down his face. 

“ _BUT WE ARE NO MATCH FOR HIM!_ ” 

“BUT KÍLI IS THE KING! EREBOR WON’T STAND FOR IT!” 

“AND THE ARMY IS AGAINST HIM!”

“WELL HOW CAN YOU STAND THERE DOING NOTHING?” 

“BECAUSE I CANNOT BEAR THE THOUGHT OF MY FAMILY GETTING MASSACRED BY HIS MEN, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” 

The argument carried on, heard clearly by Aprir who sat silently in her room so that they would not know she was there. She clutched the letter in her shaking hands, rereading the last two lines: 

_If this is Aprir who is reading this letter, please reply to me._

_At your service,  
Dain Ironfoot_

* * *

Kíli cursed his own stupidity when he saw what he had done. They should never have tempted to fell the tree together, little dwarflings that they were. They only wanted to take the tree to the mountain so the wood could be used for the hearth. He had really wanted to do something nice for his mom! 

The tree had missed crushing his torso, but he was still pinned down, unable to move his legs. 

He heard Fíli order one of the younger dwarflings to get his father and uncle. 

“Kíli, don’t be scared,” Fíli said as he crouched beside him, his face coming up in Kíli’s sight. 

“I can’t feel my legs!” Kíli whimpered. 

“You’ll be okay. Our bodies are strong, you hear me? We don’t die easily like the menfolk!” Fíli reached out, taking Kíli’s hand. “Just hold my hand, okay? I’ll be here for you until Da and Uncle get here.” 

Kíli nodded, glad to have his brother’s hand to hold. 

His eyes fluttered open. The crushing sensation over him was from Nrar. He must have fainted after sustaining another blow to the head. 

“Fíli.” Kíli felt his eyes well up, wondering what his brother would say if he was seeing this now. He reached out one arm to the side as far as the chain would allow, pretending he was reaching for Fíli’s hand. He could almost feel his brother holding his hand back, telling him to be patient, to wait this out. Help was coming.


	12. Kharêzu Khazâd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: beginning of chapter contains graphic torture. I know I said the last chapter would be the last one, but there's only a little bit left in here.

Where is the Arkenstone? Nrar had torn through the royal chambers digging for the damned jewel countless times, but no matter how much he searched, tearing the room apart in the process, and how many times he threatened and throttled Kíli to speak, still the brat would not divulge the gem’s whereabouts. 

“Love, your stubbornness is no longer endearing!” Nrar said sweetly to him, kissing the soft naked dwarf beneath him. “I have no other place left to punish you!” 

Yet he still ran his dagger across Kíli’s scarred stomach, drawing out another pained cry from the fallen king. 

“Tell me now and I will spare you. I am a merciful king.” 

Kíli shook his head. Really, how could he endure this? There was not an inch left on his pretty face that wasn’t bruised or bleeding. Angrily Nrar dug his fingers into the puncture wounds his guards had so lovingly created in Kíli’s side, allowing him to touch the very inside of the young dwarf. Kíli gasped sharply. 

“Tell me!” Nrar hissed, digging his gloved fingers deeper. 

But Kíli only gasped and shrieked with pain, twisting and arching his back. His tears mingled with the blood on his face. “N-no! N-N-N-N-N-Nrar, n-n-n-n-no!” Nrar didn’t bother to keep Kíli quiet during these moments. It was only when he was out of the room that Kíli was gagged; Nrar didn’t want to risk anything after that obtuse friend of Kíli’s came looking for him. 

“I do not want to hurt you,” Nrar said softly, his voice cracking. “You are _mine_. But you leave me no choice, love. Your silence, your disloyalty…how could you hurt me?” 

With his other hand, he dug the knife into Kíli’s stomach. 

“No, no! Stop! NO!” 

“Shut up and take it, wretched whore!” His bloodied hand left Kíli’s side and went up to his neck, squeezing and shaking him, and still he sliced the young king beneath him. It was not long before Nrar completely lost it, striking and slashing Kíli wherever he could, but being careful enough to not kill him, not yet at least. He needed the Arkenstone, and the thought, the desperation of it drove him madder in tormenting Kíli. 

But no matter how much further Nrar took the punishment, Kíli never spoke of the Arkenstone, his shrieks of agony being the only thing spilling from his bloodied mouth, shaking the empty halls of his ancestor’s royal chambers.

* * *

Doubt had planted itself inside Dain’s mind, unwilling to leave him. Two months had passed since Kíli’s last letter, a hasty note that he had received Dain’s instructions on how to get Nori out of Erebor. Since then he had heard nothing from his young cousin, though Dain was at least certain that Nrar wasn’t the one receiving them. Nrar would have let him know. 

Dain frowned. Since when did he think of Nrar with such mistrust? He would have fought for the dwarf’s integrity, for they had grown up together. But there was something in the king’s words which disturbed Dain, setting off alarms that he could not ignore. Perhaps it was how the fear and secrecy he detected in Kíli’s note mimicked Dain’s own son Thorin when he was scared and trying to hide some terrible truth from an adult. 

Dain would have left the Iron Hills this moment, would have marched to the Lonely Mountain to see for himself what the matter was. But the trip would take weeks, and his own kingdom was busy with the preparations of their early summer festivals, and Dain was needed to oversee the preparations. 

He was thus trapped, putting on his kindly smile as he oversaw his kingdom transform for the celebrations. From a distance he could make out the dwarf Nori doing whatever he could to help. His beard was growing back, and his very long hair - which Nori refused to have anyone touch - was styled in a single plait that went down to his knees. Dain never met Nori before though he was aware they were distantly related. Still, he wondered how Nori appeared before all this; he had heard rumors of a ridiculous hairstyle, but it only made Nori’s current appearance all the more sad. There were still hints of that arrogance and pride that the dwarf was apparently known for, and Dain was thankful for that stubbornness in Nori, but Dain himself could see how Nori had dimmed. 

Nori was helping a lady by holding out his right arm, the spool wrapped around it, and saying nothing. He busied himself by studying the decorations about him. He had struck friendship with the woman early on, which made Dain glad. But if Nori had grown fond of her romantically remained to be seen; Dain thought he saw Nori gazing intently towards one of the men not too far off. 

“I just hope he is not planning on stealing anything,” Dain thought lightly before moving on. If only he could get Nori to communicate with him on the matter of Kíli.

* * *

Lofar noticed the dwarf kept gazing at him, and finally he had to look back. The strange dwarf blinked and nodded before returning his attention to the woman. One look at the poor lad’s chopped arms, and Lofar turned back to his work, shaking in fear.

* * *

“I’m afraid Kíli has been stricken with a rare and fatal illness,” Nrar announced to the dwarves attending before him in the throne room. Most were of his own army and men, all smiling behind their beards, but also among them were dwarves of the Blue Mountains and the decedents of the dwarves of Erebor. Some looked about in concern and worry. 

Among in this crowd stood Bofur and Glori. Dozens of rows of dwarves stood between them and the regent, but even with the din from their voices Nrar’s words were still heard clearly. 

“How odd, an illness right at the exact time of my son’s disappearance!” Glori whispered to Bofur, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “And I suppose he will next reveal himself to be the seventh incarnation of Durin!” She turned back to glare at him, not seeing the seething anger on Bofur’s own face. As Nrar continued on, Bofur finally reached a point where he could not keep his silence any longer. 

“And can we not see our king?” he shouted suddenly, and silence followed all around him. 

Nrar turned to him, his eyes narrowed. 

“He recognizes me,” Bofur thought. “Well, good.” 

“You interrupt your new king?” Nrar said, and though his voice was low and smooth the threat, dripping with every word, was heard by all. 

“I’m sorry, but I do not believe you are the king,” Bofur said. “You only said that King Kíli is ill, not deceased, Mahal forbid. And I ask why can we not see him? We would not mind seeing him ill, as we love him not matter what! And I just realized why this place looks so grim - it’s always been his fair face that always brought light to this throne room!” 

More silence followed, though a very small number dared to nod their head in agreement. Even from the distance Bofur could see a tick going off near Nrar’s mouth. 

“Do not anger him,” Glori whispered hastily, but Bofur ignored her. He bore his eyes into Nrar, keeping his wide cheeky grin. 

“Well, why do you not answer?” Bofur asked happily. “Is there more we should know that you’re, perhaps, keeping from us?” 

“Guards,” Nrar spoke suddenly, his smooth and dangerous voice rumbling in the throne room. “Surround the culprit!” 

Dozens of guards broke through the crowd of dwarves, encircling Bofur. He could not keep count of them, but that was not brought the first inklings of fear. There was something about them that simply was not right. The closer they got, the sicker he felt, as though he had been plunged deep in cold water for many years. And from the looks on their faces, the dwarves around him felt the same. 

And though he never was the bravest in Thorin’s Company, Bofur didn’t hold back from a fight, and he _was_ ready. But the guards…there was something about them that paralyzed him with fear. He would never win in a fight with them. 

Nrar approached Bofur, his eyes burning red. “You dare crawl up to the throne room, a mere lowborn such as yourself, and speak so callously to your new ruler?” He leaned into Bofur’s ear. “I know what you went up to with my bondmate when I was away. He’s paying the price still. I will force him to cut you up himself if you dare show that hideous face of yours anywhere around here again.” 

“What have you done to him?” Bofur hissed. 

But Nrar straightened up, ignoring Bofur’s question, and brought his sword against Bofur’s throat. “Bow and show your respect, or you will be the first dwarf to die by my hand!” 

The silence around them dinned with the terror etched across the dwarves’ face. 

“A dwarf shall not take the life of another,” Bofur spoke loudly. “Or did your Ma and Da not teach you of the Laws of Our Seven Fathers?” 

“Silence! Bow!” 

Bofur stood stock still, glaring into Nrar’s eyes. His body trembled terribly from a mix of rage and fear. How he much desired to wrap his fingers around Nrar’s throat! He was not going to give in, not going to give Nrar any reason to claim victory over him, no matter how small. 

He felt the sword cut thinly across his throat, and from behind Nrar Bofur caught Glori shaking her head. _Kíli needs you!_ she signed to him, desperation in her face. 

Bofur shook himself out of his trance and bowed, hating the humiliation and the sense of having failed Kíli. But he was kept alive, at least for now. 

“Good,” Nrar said. “You will evade punishment for now, although my guards will not hesitate to disembowel you should you come here ever again. Go back to the dirty hole from whence you came, lowly scum!” 

Bofur wiped away at the thin line of blood, his wound already healed. The dwarves about them were inching away from Bofur. With a sick feeling Bofur realized some of them were the dwarves who worked for him in the mines and forges. A mad desire possessed him, to run after Nrar and fight him to the death, but Glori gripped his arm tightly and pulled him away. 

“Foul scum of this world!” she hissed angrily as she led Bofur back to their office. “He’s gathered an army more numerous than the inhabitants of this mountain! It’s no wonder why he’s more open in his nasty dealings with us! Did you see the other dwarves? Poor things are just as terrified as we are! Oh, after what he did to my son how I’d love to see _him_ attempt to eat without a tongue!” 

“I’m defenseless,” Bofur thought bitterly. “Kíli’s defenseless.” He spoke not a word after that, letting Glori’s angry rants fill the travel back. The more he thought of it, the worst the thought became, of Kíli trapped somewhere in there with Nrar and his men, and there was nothing his friends could do to stop them. 

“Glori, I cannot be in my office today,” he said at last. 

“Don’t let what that scoundrel did to you affect you!” 

“It isn’t that! I’m just not feeling well…” 

He bid her a good day and made way for his home. He was still shaking as the thoughts refused to leave him. Even should Bofur gather back all of the remaining members of Thorin’s Company, even if he was to rile up every citizen of Erebor, they could easily be wiped out by Nrar and his army. Thorin’s dreams - Kíli’s dreams - his family and their children - all were powerless against Nrar. How bleak Erebor’s future looked, and how utterly unfair it was for them all to suffer this. 

He locked the door of his home, his body trembling so badly he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it all in. Tears were already pouring down his face. He slammed every door behind him as he stormed about the house, making way for his mattock before next making his way to the logs near the fire. 

His terrible shrieks ripped through him as he pounded the wood with terrible force, releasing his anger with each strike of his mattock. The wood exploded underneath him, and the mattock formed an indent on the stone floor. And still he shrieked and shrieked his rage until it was all out of his system. 

“Bofur?” Bifur appeared around the corner, one eyebrow raised. 

“You’re not at work?” Bofur asked, tossing his mattock aside, suddenly embarrassed. He had never been this angry in his life. 

“Something finally crawled under your skin?” Bifur asked, motioning to the indent on the floor. 

“Yes, just work-related,” Bofur said. 

Bifur nodded. “Better the floor then your employees. Any news of Kíli? There was an announcement by Nrar, I thought.” 

Bofur’s face burned. “Kíli’s still in his trip. I think he’s going to meet Dain about Nori. Something like that. Nrar’s announcement wasn’t any big deal.” 

Bifur nodded. Bofur excused himself and left, and thus did not hear Bifur mumble, “A likely story.”

* * *

Kíli sat next to Nrar in the private dining hall, his first time out of his bedroom. His wrists were chained together, and he wore not a single thread of clothing on him. Blood still dripped from the puncture wounds in his side. His hair and beard were still regularly shaved, and he shivered from the chill. He stooped in his seat, vainly trying to hide his nakedness from others who might see him. 

A plate was set out before him but there was no food served, and whatever Nrar was eating smelled so good that his shriveled stomach begged for it. 

“I met the dwarf you so enjoyed in my absence,” Nrar said. “A feisty one. Seems to think bedding you gave him the right to interrupt me during my speech today.” 

Kíli remained silent, knowing that no matter how much he insisted that he hadn’t as much as kissed Bofur, Nrar would never believe him. 

“He inquired as to why he couldn’t see his precious former king,” Nrar said. “And so I’m rectifying that. Too bad he won’t be around to see it!” 

Kíli’s eyes widened. “You did not hurt him!” 

Nrar laughed. “How you worry for him! I threatened him, before the entire kingdom. No lowborn should be allowed near the throne room. They may taint the royalties. But I forget, he already has.”

* * *

The days passed, but Bofur still could not get Kíli out of his mind. He did little work, but sat thinking in his office for most of the day. It didn’t bother his employees too much. There wasn’t much for him to do, having run his little monopoly so well. 

“Da would be proud of me,” he thought, but no joy came from that thought. Although it was out of his hands, he felt horrible for not being able to get Kíli out of there. 

The only comfort he had was coming back home. Aside from being surrounded by his many nieces and nephews, he loved most passing the table where he had been making more Kíli dolls. Seeing Kíli’s smiling face, even if it was on a doll, made Bofur’s heart swell. 

“Wish I can see that real smile before me,” Bofur thought sadly one evening. In his bedroom Bofur stripped down to his nightclothes, eager to go to bed early tonight when something came to his mind. He rummaged through his drawers and found a bundle wrapped in cloth. He brought it over to his bed and pulled the cloth away, revealing the doll that Kíli had given him. Bofur smiled; Kíli had imprinted his name into the doll. 

“Hello, Bîrahzêm,” he whispered into the doll. “This is Kharêz your friend.” And he performed the ritual, imprinting his own name into the doll, speaking his name three times forward, three times backwards, then three times forward again. He could feel the names of the other past owners of the doll trickling towards him, but he pushed them away. He had no business stepping into the Durin family; he only wanted to focus on Kíli. 

Bringing the doll to his lips again, he whispered his prayer. The night drew long and he kept his prayer, never stopping, and saying Kíli’s inner name over and over until her felt more relaxed, somehow knowing that Kíli would be safe.

* * *

Kíli thought he felt a gentle cool liquid filling his veins. It wasn’t painful and it didn’t chill him the way the room did with him lying here nude. He risked opening one blackened eye, but no one was tormenting him. He was left alone. Nrar’s snores came from beside him. The sensation was rather pleasant, Kíli realized, and his mind kept thinking, “Kharêz.” He hazarded a smile before closing his eyes again, hoping Nrar had not seen his face. 

“I love you, Kharêzu Khazâd, my hope of the dwarves,” Kíli thought, allowing himself to relax into the cool healing sensation, hoping that for once he could find sleep.

* * *

Bofur’s prayer brought relief to Kíli’s soul that night, but his body was still in tremendous agony. The abuse continued, growing frantic to the point where Kíli was now convinced Nrar was trying to end his life in the slowest and most agonizing way possible. He still slept and ate close to nothing. He had even begun to wonder if that moment, of feeling Bofur, was somehow in his own head, and he even feared he may have spoken Bofur’s name aloud. 

But there was something different about their link, Bofur and his, that Kíli could sense. It was a sort of intimacy he expected to have gained between him and Nrar after their wedding. The thought of being secretly married to Bofur both amused and depressed Kíli. To see Nrar’s face should he find out that the dwarf he despised had Kíli’s inner name…but it would only spell doom for Bofur, and Kíli did not want to dwell on the possibility of having put his friends at risk. 

Unfortunately for him, Nrar had taken to parading him around the throne room, to be seen and mocked by Nrar’s men. By this point, Kíli could barely open his eyes. His own thoughts had grown foggy, and he dared not to open his mouth save to scream from the pain. From lack of nutrients his body had begun to waste, and he struggled in his walk. He could barely hold himself up, and he was unable to see well. Several times he hit a wall or pillar, or slipped and fell face-first. He heard gasps and some sobbing; among them were also some cold laughter, no doubt Nrar’s own men. Kíli knew it was the other dwarves of his kingdom, those he had given gifts to, who were looking on in silent horror at what had become of him. But none approached him. After Bofur, none dared to challenge Nrar. 

“See what has happened to your former king?” Nrar called out in mock concern, but even in this state Kíli could detect the smugness in his voice. “He has completely gone mad! I begged him to at least cover himself, for his own dignity, but he refused! He thinks he’s an animal!” 

None of Kíli’s people laughed. 

With his hallucinations and feelings of weakness Kíli was losing his pride. He regularly wept in front of everyone or relieved himself on the spot if Nrar didn’t help him to a chamberpot. It only made Nrar’s army more cruel. 

He was certain he was close to death. 

“Perhaps I should show you to all of your people,” Nrar said one morning, kissing Kíli after forcing himself on the king another time. “I daresay you will not live to see tomorrow, so to see you one final time would be a treat, I would think. I _will_ be king, whether or not I find the Arkenstone. Besides,” he leaned into Kíli’s ear, “I believe I know where to find your inner name.” 

Kíli did not argue as he was pulled out of bed and made to walk before Nrar, naked and bloodied and trembling from starvation and pain. His legs almost gave away beneath him immediately, and Nrar had to shove him forward. His mind had gone so foggy that he could no longer hold onto the thought of Bofur. He was unaware of where he was being taken. 

He wasn’t sure how far they had walked when he heard a woman’s voice. 

“What an ugly thing! Is that what has become of our king!” 

Kíli was certain he never heard that particular voice before, though there was something about it that seemed familiar. But he was too weak to look up; he couldn’t even open his eyes. 

“Indeed I’m afraid, madam,” Nrar said, sighing loudly. “I worry much for my love, but he insisted on leaving his rooms in this state.” 

“Well, serves him right! Best to give him to me; I wish to speak with this incompetent king before his passing.” 

“Pardon?” 

“I have unfinished business with this scum! Do not worry, I’ll send him back once I had a word with him! See this knife? Just a little parting gift for him. Now give him to me!” 

Kíli made a small whimper, reaching out for Nrar to take him back, dreading more torment, but the strange woman pulled him towards her and made away with him. What enemy was she, he wondered in fear. The thought of more pain made him weep, and his tears did not stop through their walk. He did not know how far they had went when suddenly he felt something wrap around him. 

“Are you all right, lad?” said the same woman, but her voice was now different, more familiar and warm. 

Kíli could only moan before his legs gave away beneath him. The woman grabbed him just in time. 

“By Mahal, Nîlma!” 

“Told you I could get him away from that fiend!” 

Kíli felt himself being passed over to another dwarf. 

“I am so glad there is one among us who was able to slip in.” 

“I used to act on stage! I am an expert on disguising myself. Now go! Before he gets suspicious. He thinks I’m carving out the poor lad right now.” 

Glori, Kíli thought, catching glimpse of the jewelry around the wrist of the dwarf who held him, before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and the world turned black.

* * *

Glori couldn’t decided where to start first. She brought Kíli into her home and settled him on the bed she had initially made for Nori. The young king’s ribs stood out from the starvation; his lips were chapped from not having drunk, and they were blue (Glori tried not to panic when she had seen that.) Scars and bruises littered his shaven body, and some areas she feared were infected, such as the deep cut in his belly or the three horrific puncture wounds in his side. Every now and then he’d mumble incoherently, but his eyes remained closed. 

Glori had the herbs and ointments ready, having anticipated that Kíli would need them. She had asked Óin to prepare some for her on pretense that it was for her. But first she scooped a bowl of hot soup she had Dori and Ori prepare in the kitchen. Her sons were still at home, both wanting to help her and protect her in case Nrar followed them. 

Gently she tipped the bowl of soup into Kíli’s mouth, giving him just enough that his famished body could handle without getting sick. She kept some warm milk on the side to wet his tongue and lips, satisfying his thirst. 

“Dori, I know you are there,” Glori said as she mixed the herb with the ointment exactly how Óin had instructed. She knew her eldest son and Kíli had not spoken for a few years, driven away by a petty argument. Indeed she’d heard Dori gossip before about the king and yearn for the day when Nrar would take over. But now he stood, white-faced and very sorry, studying Kíli on the bed. 

“He did this? Nrar did this?” he asked, shocked. 

“Does it surprise you?” Glori asked calmly. “Kíli’s been miserable ever since his marriage to Nrar. And he’s gone missing right after Nori escaped - I’m sure you’re intelligent enough to figure it out, dear. Now, I thought you said you were willing to help?” 

Dori took another look at Kíli, shivered, and stepped back out. But the brothers kept to their word and helped her in first bathing him, then administering the medication and dressing his wounds. When they were done, they wrapped him up and settled him back down on the bed, whispering to him that he was safe, as Kíli kept mumbling in his sleep. 

“My deepest regrets,” Dori said, sighing as he gave Kíli’s hand a squeeze. “I was impatient and unfair, and how sick I am of myself right now.” 

“Did any of Nrar’s guards see you?” Ori asked Glori. 

“We made sure Nîlma would take Kíli far away from the main roads,” Glori said. “We studied the streets together and took note where most of the guards were stationed. But we could always have missed one, though so far we have been undisturbed.” 

“And let’s hope it stays that way,” Dori said. “Kíli needs his rest.” 

Ori nodded. “I cannot think of leaving him during the day. I might take some time off my work to watch him.” 

“Don’t jeopardize your position,” Dori said. “I know how much Askor’s been wanting to get back at you. We’ll take turns. I just hope no one notices a pattern in us being gone.” 

“I will watch him as well,” Glori said, “and I will take up more days. I’m only overseeing the work of others, so I can leave whenever I need to. Bofur can take over my role when I am not at my office.” 

“Does Bofur know Kíli is here?” Ori asked. 

“No, I didn’t think to tell him,” Glori said. “Nîlma and I kept it a secret between us. But I should tell him, or at least try to before he does something rash.” 

Ori straightened up. “You heard about that then? About his outburst?” 

“Bifur was the one to tell me,” Glori said. “He heard Bofur barging into the house and just exploding. Thankfully he decided to be violent on some logs instead of Nrar.” 

“I heard through a neighbor of Bofur’s.” Dori shook his head. “I have seen him in battle, but even then he did not have that level of rage I was told about.” 

“He made an indent on the floor!” Ori said. 

Glori snorted. “Those two will have fun trying to explain that to Bombur’s children!” 

Silence followed between them; Kíli’s mumbles had increased at the sound of Bofur’s name. 

“Is it time for another feeding?” Dori asked, uncertain.

* * *

As they had planned, Nílma started the rumor that Kíli was staying in one of the commoner’s homes and was in the final days of his life. Shock and grief traveled throughout the kingdom. The people wept and made public prayers for their young king, all of which Nrar ignored, though the smug grin was ever plastered on his face. 

Glori and her sons kept their work. There were bruises and cuts around Kíli’s skull, and they hoped no internal bleeding had taken place. There would be nothing they could do for that, and Glori was finding it difficult as it was to keep his wounds clean. 

Dori worked hard when it was his turn to watch over Kíli. The guilt had poisoned him, stricken with grief at his own anger and behavior at the lad. He openly wept when his family wasn’t around, silently begging Kíli to forgive him. Seeing Kíli on Nori’s bed, in such emaciated and horrific state…it suddenly occurred to Dori just how lively and warm and strong of body Kíli was not too many years ago. 

Dori will never forgive himself for turning his back. 

“The gold of this mountain rusted my brain,” Dori thought bitterly as he helped Kíli take in more soup. “I really hope you weren’t alone in your suffering, my friend and king.”

* * *

Upon hearing the news of Kíli’s failing heath, Óin rushed to Nílma.

“Am I hearing this right?” he demanded, and he asked if she had any more info, if she knew where Kíli was staying and if he could help the king, but she turned him away. It stung her and Glori’s hearts to see their friends in such distraught state over the news. 

“Perhaps we should make an exception for Óin,” Nîlma whispered to Glori. “He can probably help.” 

“The less people know the better, but I think you are right,” Glori said. She didn’t want to raise suspicion of there being too many people coming to her home, so she asked Dori to remain at home for a few days before she came to Óin begging him to see her ill son. 

“First Kíli and now Dori?” Óin said. “What sort of bad luck have my friends been having!” 

Glori remained silent until she opened the door for him to enter. 

“My lad!” Óin nearly dropped his box of supplies upon seeing Kíli. He turned to Glori. “Has he become ill in the mind? Why is his hair gone? And his body! What has happened to him!” 

“Someone had done all of this to him,” she said, “but you must promise not to speak a word of this.” 

However she wasn’t sure if Óin heard her without the aid of his ear trumpet, which he had discarded to the side in order to tend to Kíli. His eyebrows furrowed, Óin settled himself beside Kíli’s bed and looked him over quickly, checking around his head, neck, and arms, all the while wincing at the blackening bruises. He opened each eyelid and peered into each pupil. “You know, my partner Varis told me, not too long ago, that Kíli and Nrar were having problems in their marriage. Did that dwarf do this to our king and my cousin? Was it Nrar?” 

Glori drew a deep breath, and she signed her words as she spoke them. “Yes, but you cannot say anything about it!” 

“Why not? Nrar doesn’t scare me.” Óin pulled aside the blanket, taking in the damage done to Kíli’s stomach. “He’ll need more herbs for that.” Craning his neck, he took note of the puncture wounds. After quickly slipping on a new pair of gloves he examined the wounds closer before making a loud angry sound. 

“Infected!” he yelled. “This is bad - BAD!” 

Glori jumped from where she sat in the room. “He won’t die, will he?” she asked and signed at once. 

“With the right medicine he might make it,” Óin said. “He’s still young and strong. Something like this would have claimed my own life, but I’m more optimistic for his case. Optimistic…ha! There is nothing optimistic about this! What madness had possessed Nrar to do this to our king!” 

He helped Kíli to his other side, not wanting him to lie on his stomach, and studied his back. Then something caught his eye; gently he spread one buttock. 

“Oh…oh Mahal!” He settled Kíli on his back again and turned to Glori. “You want me to remain silent about _this_?” 

“I’m afraid you have no choice,” Glori said and signed. “Nrar’s army has threatened everyone who knows. He will not hesitate to kill, and his army _will_ wipe out everyone in this mountain!” 

“We should not remain silent! He’s trying to get the throne to himself, and he’s doing it through torment and rape and sodomy! And I suspect from the wounds he wasn’t acting alone! No dwarf will stand for such lack of nobility in a fake king!” 

“Exactly. He is working with others to rid of Kíli. He has dwarves who will kill us all if we try to resist him. Think of Gimli. Think of your brother and his family. He will kill everyone,” Glori begged. 

Óin gave a disgruntled snort, but he said nothing more after that. He turned his focus on healing Kíli. 

“If you want me to remain silent, then I have to take as much attention away from here as possible,” Óin finally said after he was done. “This won’t be my only visit; these injuries are serious, and I only wish I was called sooner. Keep Dori around a few more days. I may need him.”

* * *

Óin made his way to Glóin’s home that evening. Though he had his own luxuriously-decorated home, it was tradition for them to dine together. He had the keys to Glóin’s home, and when he entered, the most he could hear was some din suggesting that Glóin and Gimli were passing around jokes again. 

“Welcome, brother!” Glóin called out. 

Óin gave a quick nod to Glóin before turning to Gimli. “Dear me…Gimli, are you all right?” 

The bright smile on Gimli’s face disappeared, replaced with confusion. “Sorry, I don’t know what you mean,” Gimli said, waving about a flask of ale which he always drank before dinner. “I feel fine!” 

“No, no! You feel fine, but you have the same symptom as the dwarf I examined today. This is bad…go to your room! I must quarantine immediately!” 

Nîlma and Glóin followed him, both confused. Gimli, looking scared but also upset, kept asking him questions, all of which Óin refused to answer. 

“Brother, what is happening?” Glóin asked. “Please, this is my only child!” 

“I’m afraid an epidemic is starting to spread throughout the mountain! This is the third case I see today!” Óin said. “Mahal save us should this become another disaster as the plague of the Blue Mountain in the year 2790!” 

Gasps came from Glóin, but Nîlma’s eyes narrowed. Óin caught her gaze and gave her a significant look. She nodded her approval before bringing out her best acting then, shrieking and weeping in fear for her son’s survival. 

“What’s happening?” Gimli screamed. “I’m not dying!” 

“You won’t die if you remain in your room!” Óin ordered. 

By the end of the week, Óin had diagnosed several more dwarves of this mysterious plague, convincing them of remaining home until the disease had passed. He appointed some of his students to aid him with seeking care for the ill dwarves. But the ointments were nothing more than just an ointment base mixed with talc, and medications he brewed for them was simply spiced tea, but his plan had succeeded. Though he visited the dwarves and thus had some time taken away from Kíli, he was not followed by any of Nrar’s guards. 

“But won’t your other patients become furious once they find they’ve missed work over a fake illness?” Glori asked Óin as he hummed to himself while healing the king’s body. 

“I’ll pay them in compensation,” Óin said. “I still have more money than I know what to do with even after opening a medical school, and I have no heirs to pass my fortunes to. Consider this my gift to Kíli.”

* * *

Kíli dreamt many wonderful things, replacing his living nightmares with dreams that brought him happiness such that he had forgotten what upset him so much in the first place. 

He was back at home, and the mornings were so bright: Míli was yelling at him to wake up, and he was chasing her throughout the house, both laughing. 

Fíli and he were enjoying some ale and trying to see who could belch louder, then Fíli carrying him on his back, both singing loudly till Thorin or Dwalin told them to quiet down. 

Bifur and he were sparring, then when they were done they’d sit with their friends but get caught up having another one of their heated arguments on some philosophical topic or other. 

He was a dwarfling cuddling up in his mother’s arms. 

Looking through Balin’s book in his study, his eyes glittered excitedly as Balin told him to take any book of his choosing. 

Bombur winking as he sneaked to him another cookie, free of charge, while his wife wasn’t looking. 

Sitting next to Thorin, trying to make himself as proper a prince as he could for his uncle. 

Drinking and making merriment with the dwarves of Thorin’s Company, lost in that delightful evening in the Shire. 

Lying with his head on Fíli’s lap, his eyes closed and listening to the Company engage in one of their silly fights. 

Back in the Blue Mountains, enjoying his solitary picnics and walking about the length of the mountain, his fingers exploring the surface, extracting messages and names long seeped into the rock. 

“Wake up, laddie-love.” With a soft moan, Kíli’s eyes fluttered open. The thick blanket over him kept him warm despite having slept in the nude. Next to him in bed was Bofur, hair disheveled and his body just as bare as his. Kíli blushed upon remembering what they were up to the night before, and Bofur must have read his thoughts, for he grinned at Kíli and gave him a kiss. 

“Hope you slept well,” he said. 

Kíli nodded. “And you?” 

“Yes, though I wouldn’t have minded seeing Míli waking us both up.” 

Kíli chuckled. “No, it is best you are awake now. Or Míli will write your name on the walls, and the mountain wights will take your soul.” He leaned closer, letting their lips touch. 

Kíli opened his eyes, pained moans escaping his lips. 

“Did that hurt?” Glori asked. She went gentler on changing the dressing on the wound in Kíli’s right arm. 

Kíli’s eyes scanned the strange, unfamiliar room he was in. Bofur was right here beside him earlier…where did he go? And where were Fíli and Míli? And who was Glori…the name was familiar…as the memory returned to him, so did the extent of the situation that his mind had been running from. 

“Bofur,” Kíli said tiredly. “Bofur.” 

“Do you want me to get Bofur?” 

Kíli gave her the smallest of nods before drifting back to sleep.

* * *

To their relief, Kíli had been growing stronger in health over the weeks. He still spent much of the time sleeping, but he was eating more, though he still remained weak in both body and mind. He ate only as much as his stomach could handle, rest whenever his body tired (which was often), but took the time to talk with his friends. Dori was quick to apologize for his past behavior, but Kíli brushed it aside. It did not matter; the fact Dori was here now was important. Besides, Kíli was too weak to tell Dori how much gratitude he felt to have someone from the Company return to his side. He could only watch Dori fuss over him with a weak smile, so glad to hear his friend’s voice worrying over this thing or that.

* * *

Approaching Bofur was a delicate manner. Nrar had sent his guards to watch the Broadbeam family, no doubt suspecting they had Kíli. The younger dwarflings wept in fear every time they passed by the guards. Bofur and Bombur, she could see from a distance, were fighting to urge to attack them, while Minyu tried to pretend they weren’t there even while her youngest child (who everyone had gotten in the habit to calling Kíli) would weep loudly until they were safely far away. Bifur just gave them a courteous nod before heading to his shop. 

“What does it matter, surrounding their home with those terrible guards?” Glori thought bitterly. “Nrar suspects Kíli’s going to die any moment. What would he want with a corpse?” 

She made for the office. The day went as silently and strained as before. She could not fault anyone for weeping when they saw the guards. The warm glow of the Erebor that she remembered in her early days here were no longer present, and though the dwarves were never discontent here, they too had grown gloomy. Some of their members were selected to be part of Óin’s plan, and with the news of their own king on his deathbed there was a definite sense of melancholy in the air. 

Glori felt awful every time she looked into the devastated eyes of her employees, knowing how much she was keeping from them. 

“Bofur,” Glori said happily as she entered his office. Bofur, who looked like he had been crying again, looked up and immediately wiped away his tears. It wasn’t right, seeing him this way, and Glori felt even more awful for keeping the secret from him, from one of Kíli’s closest friends. 

Before Bofur could say anything, she signed to him a quick message. “Come, I’ll walk you home,” she said, smiling. 

Confused from her signed message, Bofur accepted her invitation. She walked him down the streets filled most with the guards, making certain they could see that her arm was around his. They held a conversation about the company in a low voice. As they approached Bofur’s home, Glori stood before him.

“And I am glad to have met you, too,” she said, caressing Bofur’s arms. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “My house this evening?” 

Bofur smiled, playing her game, though she could still see the confusion in his eyes. “I will be there, love.” 

She gave him another kiss, letting it linger, before leaving. None of the guards spoke to her as she passed them.

* * *

Kíli was running a fever, to the concern of everyone for they had hoped Óin’s medication had combated the infections. Óin had asked Kíli to just rest, but before Kíli closed his eyes he saw the fear and concern etched on Óin’s face. 

Was the infection getting worse? 

It didn’t seem like he slept long. When Kíli opened his eyes again, Óin was no longer there. But someone had woken him. 

“Wake up, sleepy head.” 

Kíli looked up, meeting Fíli’s eyes. 

“Hey, little brother, how are you feeling?” Fíli greeted brightly. 

Kíli smiled, though a disturbed feeling came over him. He should not be seeing Fíli so vividly before him. He should not be able to speak with him; the superstitions said that if one saw and spoke with the dead, even in a dream, then that meant… “I’m all right…Fíli, am I…?” 

“Get up,” Fíli said, motioning for Kíli to sit up. He couldn’t stop grinning, and Kíli wasn’t sure whether to be concerned. “Someone’s here to see you.” He gave him a mischievous wink just as Kíli settled on the bed. A knock on the door made Kíli turn away from Fíli, but turning back a second later, Fíli wasn’t there. 

“Come in,” Kíli called out uncertainly, his body shaking. His brother had appeared so real. He was sure he had heard him, and it wasn’t just his own mind. 

“Kíli?” Bofur’s voice was meek, fear and pain and relief all rolled into one, and he stood staring at Kíli after shutting the door behind him. “Kíli?” 

“Bofur…” Kíli felt the tears come up, so comforted by the sight of him. He was still too weak to get out of bed, but he threw his arms out, reaching for Bofur. 

“Kíli…what has he done?” Bofur engulfed Kíli into the tightest embrace as both burst into heavy sobs. Kíli had to squeeze Bofur’s arms, to prove to himself that he was still living, still with Bofur, or that both of them had not died. He took in Bofur’s scent, pressed his ear against Bofur’s chest to hear his heart beating, and still he tried to convince himself that this was real, that Bofur really was kissing the top of his head and whispering prayers for Mahal to heal and protect him. 

“You are alive, yes?” Kíli kept asking. “I did not die?” 

“No, no…you are here with us! Mahal is keeping you with us! Do not say that, please!” Bofur wiped away his tears. 

“I was scared I was dying,” Kíli said. “I had a fever, and Óin told me to sleep.” 

“And you’ve been sleeping ever since.” 

“How many days?” 

“A few weeks, actually,” Bofur said. “I’ve been visiting every day to be there when you awoke. I came in when I thought I heard you talking.” He smiled warmly. “Your fever appears to have gone down. Are you feeling better?” 

“I may be,” Kíli said, smiling, so glad he was alive. But the thought of what had led him here made the smile disappear. “Bofur, I fought Nrar. I tried to fight him, but he’s more powerful than ever, and he…did all of this to me.” 

“Do not beat yourself over it,” Bofur said. “Don’t. Not your fault. Ai Mahal, I would have his head for this!” 

Kíli kissed a spot on Bofur’s chest then nuzzled against him. They held each other for the longest while, weeping, at times kissing the other’s cheek, or helping to wipe away the tears. Kíli was so terrified of letting go of Bofur, of seeing Fíli again (though somewhere in the back of his mind, Kíli wondered if joining his father, uncle, and brother was better.) 

“Will you be alone with me for a while?” 

“Glori said we can have all the time we need alone,” Bofur said. “We’re pretending to be courting so no one would grow suspicious of me coming here.” 

Kíli chuckled, but a sudden sharp pain made him wince. Slowly he pulled back. “I’m in pain, Bofur…” 

“What do you need me to do?” 

Kíli motioned to the supplies Óin had set up for him. He instructed Bofur what to do while he unbuttoned his tunic and pulled aside the dressing from his side. He met Bofur’s eyes shyly, who had stood staring in stunned silence at the still-healing wounds. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Bofur shook his head. “I must apologize for staring.” He set the ointment beside Kíli and worked in applying the medicine. His fingers were gentle yet Kíli could detect the shiver in his hands, and he wept despite trying to stop himself. Bofur looked up. 

“It’s not your fault, all right?” 

“How will I ever get rid of him?” Kíli said. “He manages to escape Nori and he comes back with an army enough to wipe us all out! 

“Bofur…” Kíli became silent, checking to make certain no one was in the hall. “He kept demanding from me my inner name and where the Arkenstone is. The tortures grew worse the longer I remained silent.” 

Bofur frowned. “Always with the name! What does he need your name for? And why the Arkenstone?” 

“I don’t know. Perhaps it will give him power,” Kíli said. “He’ll feel like a true king, or all this time he wants this treasure to give himself wealth, though there’s no amount of money in this world that can be exchanged for the Arkenstone. But I have something of Nrar’s that he doesn’t know about.” 

Bofur was adding a layer of dressing over the ointment when Kíli said this, and he looked up, curious. Kíli gave a tiny smile. 

“I think I know Nrar’s inner name,” he said. His smile grew at how wide Bofur’s eyes became. “But…I’m not certain if it is really his name. I knew for a long time, but it didn’t make sense to me. I wasn’t expecting something…familiar. I dropped him a hint once, to see if it would faze him…and I got nothing. Or at least nothing that suggested he understood my meaning. Perhaps he was really good at covering up his most-guarded secret. But for all I know, my discovery may be wrong. But I have something, perhaps a clue into all this, but I need more clues. I need to make certain.” 

“Yes,” Bofur said. “If you blurt it out loud, he will only send his army to kill you.” 

“You’ve heard the name before,” Kíli said, which took Bofur aback. “I will not say it now. It’s something I should figure out, although I don’t know where to start.” 

Bofur nodded. He was deep in thought over Kíli’s words as he buttoned up Kíli’s tunic and helped him lie down on the bed again. 

“And this is not something I can help with?” 

Kíli shook his head. “I’m sorry, but this is going to be my battle. But…there is the matter of the Arkenstone. He hasn’t figured out where I placed it.” 

He took Bofur’s hand into his and kissed his hand several times before rubbing his cheek against him. Bofur kissed him on the cheek again, and they fell silent, both just wanting to be close. 

“And I can’t know that secret either?” Bofur asked. “About the Arkenstone?” 

Kíli smiled sadly. “I don’t want you to end up like Nori.” 

“But I have an army myself,” Bofur said. “I control all the mines and the forges and the gemcutters. It’s the vastest communities of the kingdom!” 

“Old miners versus Nrar’s military men?” Kíli pulled Bofur’s hand closer to him again. “I’m scared for you. I think I would rather be in the Halls of Waiting with my father and uncle and br-” 

“Kíli, don’t say that!” 

“Sorry…” 

Bofur gave him another hug, asking Mahal loudly so that Kíli could hear, “Keep him with me, please, our Lord? Keep our Kíli…” He looked up. “Do you want to see Bifur?” 

A fresh wave of tears came. “I want to! I miss him terribly! To not see him is like not seeing Fíli. But how will he react to this?” He motioned to his bruises, the stubble of a beard, the hair on his head that had only grown an inch since Nîlma and Glori saved him. 

“You’ve been ill,” Bofur said. “A lot of dwarves have been ill recently. Perhaps you have to be shaved to get rid of the bugs that were on you. Or Óin was afraid it would lead to infection. We can think of something! You’ve known him longer than you’ve known me, and I know how much being away is hurting you both.” 

“I’m still afraid,” Kíli said. “What if he gets angry?” 

“He’s seen a lot in his life, Kíli,” Bofur said. “He’s equally worried about you as all of us. It’ll make him angry, but we won’t have it directed at Nrar.” 

Kíli gave a sudden sharp intake of breath. 

“Still in pain? Did Óin give you anything for it?” 

“I can’t,” Kíli said. “My body breaks into a bad rash with opium, and I bled when I took the willow bark. I didn’t want to risk more complications, but - ai, _AI!_ ” 

Bofur slipped into bed, sitting up. He rubbed circles over Kíli’s arms and sides till he felt the muscles relax. “Know what I’m doing? I’m taking the pain out of you. Just relax and concentrate on my hand.” His humming turned guttural, making use of the lower and harsher sounds of their language that he knew relaxed Kíli. He made the circles smaller until he reached a pinpoint, then he made a motion as though he was extracting something out of Kíli’s body. He brought his hand over Kíli’s head and did the same, making tugging motions. 

Kíli’s eyelids drew heavy, but he still watched Bofur hum and relax him. 

“See that?” Bofur said, showing Kíli and invisible ball in his hand. “I’m taking all this out. And I will eat it and it will never hurt you again.” 

Kíli chuckled. “Aren’t you afraid of the pain being in you?” 

“Oh no, it won’t hurt me,” Bofur said. “My body will destroy everything that is hurting you.” He lowered himself to whisper in Kíli’s ear in the language of their people. “Now relax, relax…there is only my hand to guide you to sleep…relax and close your eyes. You are safe. You are loved, King Bîrahzêm. You will wake up tomorrow better and refreshed, my love.” 

“Love,” Kíli repeated in a bare whisper. “Stay with me, Kharêz.” He inclined his head and gave Bofur a soft kiss on his lips before slipping off into sleep. 

He awoke in the middle of the night. Bofur was asleep beside him, his arms over him protectively. Kíli wanted to kiss him again, but he worried about waking him. How long Bofur had spent massaging him, Kíli didn’t know. But something stirred inside him. For the first time in years he awoke with such happiness in his heart. Even before Nrar’s return when Kíli felt better in his room, he still wished for companionship. He always awoke at home with Míli or another family member waking him. During the Quest he’d always wake up to his friends and family chatting away as they prepared for the day. Since the day he awoke beside Thorin and Fíli’s cold bodies Kíli had found sleeping crushingly lonesome, and when Nrar was with him Kíli feared opening his eyes. 

But this…he realized just how much he wanted to be with Bofur, and just how much he feared seeing Fíli again!

* * *

The following morning, Kíli asked Bofur to bring Bifur and Bombur, and they arrived a few nights later. They were finely dressed under the pretense that Glori and Bofur were discussing an engagement. 

“Does she not mind the rumors about her?” Kíli had asked, worried for his friend. With Bofur being significantly younger than her, even younger than Nori, it was bound to draw some gossip. 

“We own about half the mountain combined,” Bofur had said. “Perhaps more. Do you think anyone would dare to speak? Besides, that isn’t the reason we’re dressed up as far as Bifur knows! He knows it’s for you.” 

Kíli smiled at the memory and turned to Bifur. They had been holding hands since the moment Bifur settled beside Kíli, both just taking comfort in being close. 

“I still remember the first time you walked into my shop,” Bifur told him. “Hair was all over your eyes, and a golden hair clasp dangled from your hair. You just bounced right in and out of your mother’s sight! And where did you go? Not to the shelves filled with all the toys you could possibly ever want, but to my worktable. You wanted to see me build a toy.” 

Kíli’s lower lip trembled. “You were so fascinating, sitting there creating the most beautiful toy I’ve ever seen. I wanted to make beautiful things like that too.” 

“You can,” Bifur said. “You were always an inventor like me. Remember when you worked in my shop for some time?” 

Kíli winced. “Don’t remind me.” 

Chuckling, Bifur kissed Kíli’s hand. “I am so sorry this illness has gotten to you. Has Óin said anything about a cure?” 

“He’s working on it.” 

“And why are you here and not in the royal chambers?” 

“I…I didn’t want any of my servants nor Nrar to catch what I have. Glori had a spare room that she agreed to have me in.” 

“But Dori is also ill.” 

“Yes…the illness spread to him too.” Kíli tried to stop himself from feeling sick. He didn’t want to enter another phase of lying constantly to Bifur. Bifur was watching him closely as if he was able to read Kíli’s thoughts. It only made the feeling worse, but he hoped Bifur wouldn’t ask him any more about Nrar. 

To Kíli’s relief, he wasn’t asked any more questions. After Bifur left to help Glori and Ori with dinner, Bofur dressed his wounds again while Bombur and Kíli spoke. 

“I knew something was happening in there,” Bombur said. “I wanted to come get you, but I was worried what the fiend would do to my family.” 

“You acted well,” Kíli said. “He is merciless and would have wiped out your entire street. He’s not even hiding his wretchedness any longer.” 

“Because he has become immensely powerful,” Bofur added, shaking his head. He helped Kíli into a new tunic and gave him another kiss on the cheek, neither aware of Bombur’s reaction. 

“Hey…why’s it so loud in the kitchen?” Bombur asked suddenly. 

“It always gets loud when Óin comes in,” Kíli said, but he still felt a cold dread drop in his stomach. 

Bombur stood up. “That’s an awful lot of excitement out there.” 

Bofur squeezed Kíli’s hand. His other hand slipped under his coat and produced a dagger. 

The door clicked open and in bounded where Glori and Óin chattering loudly, Bifur and Ori close behind. No one else was behind them. Glori gave Bofur’s dagger one look before returning to Óin. 

“And your brother received this, Óin?” 

“Aye, and good thing as well,” Óin said. “Said he didn’t trust sending it straight to Kíli, based on his suspicions of what was happening here.” 

Bifur raised an eyebrow, which no one took note of. 

“What is happening?” Kíli asked. “Who is it from?” 

He eagerly took the letter from Glori and read through it. His mouth hung open as he stared at Bofur, Bombur, Bifur, Ori, Glori, and Óin. 

“Dwalin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, what's going to happen next? :) And what does Kíli know? 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your comments! There are a few chapters left. I apologize for being a little late with this one, but the chapter is super long. My family member is back at home, but we're not out of the woods yet, so I have been juggling with taking care of him and other things as well. :)


	13. Whispered Rebellion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late chapter! I'm happy to say I have more time to get the final few chapters out, and I hope everyone has a wonderful New Year! :)

Realla was drawn to the dwarf the moment she saw him. Her heart had ached at the sight of him: his body and clothes both torn yet he was still standing strong, stubbornly fighting any sense of shame. The red marble statues that made up the Iron Hills intensified the fire in his eyes. Though pity took her heart, it was not overshadowed by the respect she felt for his determination. She happened by him again one day at a small restaurant as he was trying to eat his bowl of soup. One of Dain’s servants were trying to feed him, but the dwarf refused, insisting on feeding himself although he was making a mess of his clothes and the table. 

But by the time Realla spoke with him, he resigned himself to eating from her hand instead, and they kept this tradition ever since. She took him home, offered him a spare room and also told him that her entire home was now his. He never left to her delight. Dain’s guards told Realla of the dwarf’s name and the situation that brought him here; they were rather reluctant to leave him, but Realla had proven herself to be an adept caretaker. She liked to believe Nori and she weren’t so lonely now that they were in each other’s lives. 

Nori had a playmate, or at least that’s what Realla called him in her mind. The young dwarf had given her two names: Glasin when they first met, then Lofar as his visits became frequent. He spent his time with Nori just sitting across from each other, blinking and shaping their lips into various expressions. Sometimes Lofar brought a piece of paper with him, and the scratching of his quill on parchment would be the only sound Realla would hear from the room. She deduced they were creating a new language, which excited her; how genius of the dwarf to find some new means of communication! 

And Nori did not hold back from her. In their house was a small portrait of their ruler, and every day Nori would indicate to it and blink at her to mean, “Where is he today?” 

He was always asking about Dain, but lately all Realla could tell him was, “I’m afraid he’s become very busy. Is this important?” 

But Nori didn’t reply. Later that day she could hear Lofar scribbling furiously.

* * *

“How do I look?” Kíli asked again.

“Looking more and more like one of the Menfolk,” Nîlma said happily. “Now, let me apply more of the makeup here. It should cover up all them scars.” 

Kíli rested back, though he was ready to leap to his feet. Ever since getting Dwalin’s letter, the thought of running out of Erebor excited him. 

“You sure this is really is Dwalin?” Bofur asked. 

“I have no doubt of it,” Kíli said. “I know his handwriting. And the fact he constantly adds an extra _ô_ at the end of his verbs.” Kíli grinned. “Habit he never got rid of.” 

“But…to go to Dol Guldur?” 

“I know. I find it odd myself, but I have a feeling all of my questions will be answered there. Gandalf and the White Council had rid the place of the Necromancer. I do not think it is any danger to venture there now. I have a good feeling about this meeting in general.” Kíli grinned at Bofur before averting his eyes to Bombur. “So what is the plan?” 

Bombur pushed the map towards Kíli. The map showed the region surrounding Erebor from all four directions, and over it in red ink were Bombur’s notes. 

“The trip will take weeks, possibly months, on foot, I’m afraid,” Bombur began. 

“And by horseback?” 

“It’ll shorten the distance, but you’ll have to journey day and night in order to get there and back without Nrar sensing anything is amiss, and he’s already gotten inpatient. I’ve heard stories that he’s ordering every house to be searched, pretending he is _concerned for his love’s wellbeing_.” 

Kíli rolled his eyes. “How sweet of him.” 

“Well, that’s what he says on most days. When he doesn’t get the answer that he wants, that’s when things take an ugly turn.” 

Kíli nodded. “More reason for me to leave the mountain.” 

“And soon. He could be coming to this place any moment now.” 

“Question is, how do I slip away from here without rousing his suspicion?” 

“I’ll work with Maru on that,” Bombur said. “He sometimes takes a crate to Dale and Lake-town for trade. We’ll put you in one of the crates and he’ll take you to Lake-town. Once there, we’ll have to get you a pony. Or a horse.” 

“A horse would be better,” Kíli said. “It’ll help with my disguise as some young scared Manfolk without a home.” 

“You look like a young woman right now,” Bofur remarked, and Kíli quickly glanced at a mirror to verify. 

“That is my plan,” Nîlma interjected. “The less he looks like a dwarf king the better. Let them think he’s a maiden!” 

“And what of my beard?” Kíli asked, though he knew it would not be noticeable with the cloak he was going to be wearing. 

Nîlma chuckled. “Some of the women among Menfolk have beards themselves! Not as much as my own, granted, at least not any of the women I’ve met.” 

She put on the final layer and stepped back. “Very lovely, dear! Now, this is only a test, but get used to keeping it on for today.” 

Bofur and Bombur nodded their agreement as Kíli studied his reflection in the mirror, taking note that not a single bruise was showing. After Nîlma left, he turned to his friends. 

“Should we tell Gandalf?” he asked them. “I haven’t thought of it before now.” 

“Bother a wizard?” Bofur said. “We’d need a good reason.” 

“Having a dwarf turning wicked is good reason enough,” Bombur said, “but what I’m worried about now is how to get Kíli into that crate. It would look suspicious if we just have Maru stop by with this massive box. Glori will need to set something aside to be taken away for trade.” 

“Aren’t you’re thinking too much about this?” Kíli said. 

“Bombur has a point,” Bofur said. “There may be Nrar’s guards waiting.” 

“They haven’t been around as much recently,” Bombur said, “but we can’t be too careful. It’ll have to be Glori who stops Maru.” 

“What if they stop Maru along the way?” 

“They shouldn’t, but we will be around just in case,” Bombur said. 

Kíli nodded. “Can we go over the plan again?” 

Although they had done it before a dozen times, Bombur didn’t complain about explaining the plan one more time. It was crucial to get everything right, and Kíli was most especially concerned about the journey to Dol Guldur. It was the only place he hadn’t entered before, and he would be required to travel parallel to the entire length of Mirkwood, far south before heading west and into the old fortress. 

“You sure you can handle riding on a horse?” Bofur said. “It’s been years since you last rode a _pony_.” 

“I think I can handle it,” Kíli said. “Bifur taught me how to adapt to anything.” 

Bofur grinned. “All right, then! So while you’re off, what would you like us to do?” 

Kíli sighed, knowing Bofur was going to hate his response. “ _Nothing_. I want none of you to put yourselves in danger. Act natural. Well, don’t act natural. Pretend there’s a plague going around. That’s what Óin wants us all to do.” 

As he expected, Bofur’s grin fell at his words. 

“And what if people ask about you?” Bombur asked. 

“Give them a show. Tell them I’m recovering, then relapsing. Keep Nrar guessing as to where I’m kept. Don’t resist him if he has his guards search this home or yours. Just keep a low profile. Grief for my pending death if you must, but don’t give him any reason to see you as his enemy.” Kíli nodded towards Bofur at the last statement. 

Bombur nodded his head in agreement, but Bofur still looked upset, his lips quivering, eager to speak. 

Kíli sighed again. “You are _not_ going to start a rebellion, Bofur!”

* * *

The escape was scheduled for the following morning. The makeup was already removed by then, so Nîlma applied a new layer. Only Bofur remained inside, as he and Glori were still pretending they were courting; anyone else staying would be too suspicious.

They took that moment to be together. Kíli sat with his hands entwined with Bofur’s, both silently wishing they could have had more time to be like this. But Kíli couldn’t dwell on Bofur; his heart hammered at the thought of seeing Dwalin again, of this important meeting, of solving the mystery of Nrar. It all excited and terrified him at once. 

“Oi, Maru!” they heard Glori call out. “Got some space in that? I have a few trinkets I would like to sell in Lake-town, if you don’t mind.” 

“How many you got?” 

“Quite a lot. Can you bring that box in here?” 

“It’s time,” Bofur said softly. He squeezed Kíli’s hand. They were prepared for Maru, Bombur and Minyu’s third child, to show up, but they didn’t expect Bifur and Bombur to enter the house with him. 

“They’re helping me,” Maru said brightly. “Don’t think I can carry you and all the produce, my King.” 

Kíli beamed at him before embracing every one of them. 

“You sure you are able to go?” Bifur asked him. “You are still healing, and I’m worried you may relapse.” 

“It is an urgent meeting,” Kíli said. “The sooner I leave, the better. I cannot keep him waiting.” 

“And why the suspicious mode of travel?” 

“I…” Kíli glanced at the others.

“It would be rude for the king to leave his kingdom during this time, with the plague going on,” Bombur jumped in quickly. “Besides, Nrar’s going frantic and I don’t think he should know about this meeting on top of everything else, since only Kíli was called.” 

Bifur raised his eyebrow but nodded. He gave Kíli a rib-crushing embrace and kissed him on the top of his head. 

“Remember everything I’ve taught you, should you run across trouble along the way,” he said. Kíli nodded and kissed the back of Bifur’s hand in respect. 

He next embraced Bombur, who held him silently for a long while. 

“Thank you,” Kíli finally said in a whisper before turning to Bofur. 

Bofur looked he wanted to kiss him, but held himself back once realizing that Bifur was watching. He took Kíli into his arms, holding him tight, and buried his face into Kíli’s neck, kissing him there. Kíli chuckled softly. 

“Don’t cause trouble,” Kíli said, daring to kiss Bofur on the cheek. As he slipped on the long cloak, covering his entire frame and face, he looked back to see the look of desperation in Bofur’s eyes. Whether it was a need to kiss him again, or to beg him to stay, or begging Kíli to let him somehow help, Kíli wasn’t sure which. His attention was instead drawn to the crate, now suddenly looking like a coffin. Bifur and Bombur helped him inside while Kíli fought the panic rising in his chest. 

“Don’t think about the tombs,” he willed himself. As he settled on the hard surface, surrounded by the produce, Bofur looked inside. 

“Doing all right there?” he asked, smiling sadly. He reached for Kíli’s hand. 

“Just a little bit scared,” Kíli said. “But nothing that will stop me.” 

Bofur nodded. “We’re going to be closing the lid soon.” He squeezed his hand again. Kíli drew a deep breath. 

“I’m ready.” 

But right before Bofur let go, Kíli tugged on his hand, then reached and pulled Bofur down to his lips. 

“It sits with the one who loved it most,” he whispered. 

Bofur straightened up, studying Kíli with a face full of utter confusion, but as the seconds ticked by Kíli saw the understanding dawn on him, and right before the lid closed shut Kíli saw the beginnings of that cheeky smile on Bofur’s face. 

The smile stuck in his mind as darkness filled his surroundings. Kíli wasn’t sure if divulging the location of the Arkenstone to Bofur was the smartest thing, but somehow he felt this was for the best. He could make out little of what was being said out of the crate; there was a lot of loud noise, some scarping on the floor, more yelling as (Kíli assumed) the dwarves collaborated on getting the box onto the wagon, and then off they went. 

Kíli didn’t know when they left the street on which Glori lived, or when they finally left the mountain. There was the occasional neighing that he could hear from Maru’s ponies, and one time he thought he could hear Maru humming a tune. But overall he was stuck in the darkness, his nose met with the many delicious smells of the produce around him. 

The panic had long subsided as Kíli busied his mind with thoughts of his friends, of happier times, and of his family. He must have dozed off at some point, because he was not aware of when they finally stopped, nor the long stretch of time afterwards. 

A heavy knock against the crate awoke him. 

“My king?” 

The lid creaked open, and bright sunlight met Kíli’s eyes. Maru helped him sit upright to stretch. 

“Apologies for being away for a bit,” Maru said. “I went looking for a horse to rent. Here, I prepared this for you!” 

After a quick meal, Maru led Kíli to the stables. The lad reminded Kíli so strongly of Fíli, of the way he walked with confidence. A born leader. 

“Hold it…what month is this?” Kíli asked, taking in the foliage around him. 

“September, my king…I’m afraid autumn is coming early this year.” 

Maru indicated to a handsome black horse. “It was the smallest I could find, my king.” 

“She’s excellent,” Kíli said. “How long do I have her?” 

“Till the end of the season,” Maru said. “I told them a friend wanted her for a short trip.” 

Kíli nodded. He attempted to get on top of the horse, but after a couple of failed attempts, he asked Maru for help. 

“Of course, my king!” 

“Please, just Kíli!” he laughed. 

“I can get used to this,” Kíli thought once he mounted. “Thank you for all your deeds, Maru my friend. May Mahal watch over Erebor and all who reside in it.” He smiled at Maru then set off.

* * *

Their king had left. Her king had left. Although Aprir did not leave her home in fear of being caught by the guards, in her mind’s eye she imagined what it looked like, her brother’s wagon leaving the mountain, and the dwarf he kept in the trunk. In all that had happened in this mountain, this was the worst in her mind. She knew Kíli had suffered greatly, perhaps more than any dwarf she knew, but to see him leave his own kingdom?

“It’s only for a small amount of time,” she told herself, but it didn’t settle the fear in her heart. King Kíli was an anchor for her and her younger siblings. His endurance in the face of this horror was a model of hope. And now she would be passing by the strange guards alone without thought of her king being present. 

It was a childish thought, and she knew it, but there was nothing to change her mind. She was afraid, pure and simple. 

Nrar and his strange men were coming to every house. Janur had already ordered Aprir to burn any letters she had from Dain, but there was still one she kept in her pocket. She had never replied to it out of dread, her imaginative mind playing scenes of the war and destruction that would take place should Dain send an entire army to battle Nrar and his men. So she kept silent, but with Kíli out of the mountain she grew fearful. 

Dinner later that evening was a quiet affair; her own uncle Bofur did not speak. She swore she could hear every heartbeat, accompanied only but the sound of utensil scraping against plate. 

When she went back to her room she pulled out the last letter from Dain. Tomorrow Nrar could very well decide to visit them; she had to act soon. 

She struggled with the words. It was always easier talking to King Kíli, but that was because she knew him all her life. She spoke to him as any would speak to a friend. But King Dain was well known, esteemed, and she trembled with what to tell him. Just seeing her own name, written by his hand, made her fluster with what to say. 

_Dear King Dain_ , she began writing. Was that the right way to even begin a letter to a high king? The stress peaked until tears trickled down her face. 

The words came then, frantic and confusing, but straight from her heart and her fears, her confession to everything that had been happening since Nrar and Kíli wed, of Kíli digression, the abuse, the near-death. She wrote of Nrar’s absence and the strange guards who came with him upon his return. And now Kíli left, and she was scared of Nrar taking over the entire mountain. 

She wrote it all but never stopping to reread her words. After collapsing over her letter, exhausted, she hesitated if this should be sent. But everything was written down, and should Nrar come to their home tomorrow, she didn’t want to think what he would do if he came by her letter.

* * *

That night, another dwarf stayed awake in the large home. Bofur paced his room, his mind alit with Kíli’s hint. He should have figured it out before; the very fact that the Arkenstone was never seen since the funeral.

“Kíli gave me a doll to protect,” Bofur thought, “as the doll contained his inner name, but so did the Arkenstone! And I was never given that! That should have been clue enough!” But as pleased as Bofur was, he knew it would be a matter of time before Nrar figured it out himself. 

He had to stop Nrar from getting to the tombs, and he had to do it somehow without being suspected. Minimal force. No wars, no scrimmages, no indication that anyone was even rebelling against Nrar. It would be a rebellion conducted behind his back, carried out in whispers and gestures. 

The plan slowly solidified in his mind.

* * *

Bofur and Glori spoke amongst each other extensively before heading out. They made for the halls where the gem cutters did their work, and after confirming that the three gemcutters they have chosen were there, they set about their plan.

Glori pretended she was overlooking the craftwork of every worker, giving an occasional remark, when Bofur walked in and handed her a roll of parchment. 

“Thank you love,” Glori said in a low voice, almost a whisper. “By the way, have you heard of anything about our king?” 

“About Kíli?” Bofur said. From the corner of his eye he could see one of the gemcutters pause in her work, straining to hear while trying not to look conspicuous. “Well…”

Glori stepped closer. “Is it bad?” 

“Ai…yes. The rumors are true. He really is suffering. On his deathbed even.” 

“Oh Mahal protect him!” 

“But there is something else…” 

“Well? What is it?” 

“I am not sure how much of this is really part of that illness the healer were afraid of.” He paused, allowing for another gem cutter to pause in his work, clearly trying to listen in. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m…afraid, Glori. I fear someone is trying to do away with our king.” 

“Who?” 

“I cannot say! I could be thrown into prison!” 

“ _Who?_ ”

“I…suspect Nrar is behind this.” 

Glori gasped, covering her lips with one hand before leaning closer. “But why would he attempt this? Kíli took Nrar as spouse!” 

“I suspect something’s more wicked than that was happening. But listen, I am more afraid of Nrar’s guards-”

“And who isn’t?” 

“That’s not my point. After I spoke with our king, I believe Nrar is after something, but I do not know what it is! I just…I want to keep my eye out, you know. See where he’s going, where his guards are going. I’ll stop him from going anywhere. I mean, Kíli kept saying he had hid something from Nrar.” 

“Do you need my help? I’m sure my sons can give a hand as well.”

“Well, if you think you can, but please do not let the guards hear you! If you intend to do anything, keep your voices low, _very_ low. Let none of this be out in the open. None of it! No offense to you, but I do not fancy ending up like Nori!” And that was when Bofur turned to face the gemcutters, who had all been listening in. Bofur did not show them any displeasure, only shock and shame at having been overheard. Glori took his hand in hers, shushing him gently. 

“Come, some tea in my office will do you good,” she said kindly. She gave her employees a wink before whisking off with Bofur. 

After they were out of earshot, the three gemcutters turned to each other. 

“Did you hear all that?” the eldest spoke, her eyes wide with shock.

* * *

Their plan succeeded. They heard nothing of their conversation carry into the open, but the news was spreading rapidly through whispers and iglishmêk. Not a single word was uttered loud enough to hear, and neither was any word signed in plain sight of a guard nor to Nrar himself. A dwarf would whisper it to their spouse or friend or kin, over dinner and during the most mundane of all activities. Deep in the forges and mines, the loud noise covered their exchange.

But Bofur knew to look out for the conversations, and he caught snippets of them in the following weeks wherever he went. It pleased him to witness every dwarf figure out what Nrar was after. 

“Nrar is trying to take the throne? But I thought the king wed him in full trust!” 

“That’s not what I’m hearing. He’s after something.” 

“Like what?” 

“No idea. But keep your eyes peeled! The king must have hidden it. It’s got to be something of great value, of the family’s I suspect.” 

“Such as the Arkenstone?” 

“Well, now that you mention it, I never saw Kíli with it.” 

“Nay, neither have I! Not since the funeral, actually…” 

The dwarves did what they could in small degrees. Treading carefully as not to anger Nrar, the dwarves inconvenienced him in the smallest of ways. A road he wished to pass would be closed, or Nrar would have to wait longer than usual after giving a request. Any complaints would be met with the sincerest of apologies, leaving Nrar with no reason to order punishment lest his image be soured further in the eyes of the dwarves. 

“It’s spreading out there,” Bofur whispered to the others excitedly as they huddled in the toy shop. He was working there for the afternoon as they were making more toys in anticipation of Yule. Glori, Óin, and Bombur were all listening, all grinning. Bifur worked at his station in silence. Bofur was at first taken aback by Bifur’s sudden distance from the rest of the world, but so long as he too did not get wind of the truth, Bofur was fine with that.

“The story has not strayed, I hope,” Glori said. 

“Only when some thought Kíli wasn’t ill but hiding along with the Arkenstone,” Bofur said. “I corrected them then. Have to keep Óin’s story intact as well.”

“Do you tell them exactly where it is?” 

“Well…no,” Bofur said. “Mostly because I don’t know how we can protect it then.” 

“Just tell them directly,” Óin said, chuckling, who was turning over a soft Kíli doll in his hands. The others looked to him in confusion before taking note of two dwarves in the toy shop. 

“The mortician twins!” Bombur hissed. “They and another were present for Thorin and Fíli’s funeral!” 

“And every funeral since,” Bofur said, shuddering. He could never think of doing their work. “What are their names again?” 

“Austri and Vestri,” Glori replied. “I’ve spoken to them when poor Fjalar left this world last year.” 

“Oi, and I would much appreciate it if this table can be cleared of you two,” Óin said, indicating to Glori and Bombur. “I’d like to make a purchase!” 

The two left, leaving Bofur to deal with Óin as he continued to inspect the Kíli plush doll. 

“Have you decided on buying this yet?” Bofur asked. 

“Just one moment, laddie!” Óin glanced towards the twins, who had just approached, and nodded his head in greeting. 

“Healer!” said one of the twins. “We wanted to ask, if this is not too rude a question, if you wanted us to prepare any tombs?” 

Óin guffawed. “Do not worry, my lads! I have not lost any patient yet! Though some are in more grave circumstance than others, but I have hope! Are you coming to the conference later today?” 

“What conference?” Bofur interrupted. 

“With the regent, who else?” Óin said. “He wanted to ask about this dreaded disease, and I’m sure others want to know what’s happening! Goodness, do you not pay attention!” 

“We will be sure to be there!” said one of the twins. 

“Good, good,” Óin said, nodding. He pointed to the box in the twin’s hands. “You enjoy putting together puzzles?” 

“Austri does,” the twin, Vestri, said. “He drags me here every other month for a new one!” 

Austri simply shrugged. “What other company do you have in the tombs? I must have dusted the floor a dozen times yesterday.” 

Vestri just rolled his eyes, but Óin took a step closer. 

“Well, if you love puzzles, then be sure to listen carefully today,” he said, winking. “I foresee a grand puzzle coming your way!” 

The twins glanced at each other and Bofur in confusion, but Óin laughed heartily for a good while. “Yes, I have it then! I would like to buy this doll!”

After the twins left, Bofur and Óin argued about the upcoming meeting. Bofur could not go to the conference, as Óin reminded him of Nrar’s wrath. “Let’s not busy Austri and Vestri with setting up a tomb for you,” he had said, chuckling. “I will keep you updated. Oh, and thank you for the doll!” And he left the toy shop with a spring to his steps. 

“Old loon,” Bifur said, chuckling to himself as he turned to Bofur. “I have never seen someone that excited over a toy before!”

* * *

The crowd that was gathering was largest yet, filled with dwarves fearing for their ill loved ones. There were also an astonishing amount of guards, perhaps looking for Bofur to murder on the spot. Óin glanced around himself, straining to hear if any dwarf dared speak of the Arkenstone. He was not sure if any dared speak, but he could see very few mouths moving silently in conversation. But there was a strange light in their eyes today, as though every one of the dwarves of Erebor were seeing Nrar for the first time. They knew.

“Bring to me Óin son of Gróin!” Nrar’s order roared out. Óin found himself escorted towards the throne - the king’s throne he realized with disgust - which Nrar was already settling in as though it was his. He took note of the crown displayed over Nrar’s head. 

“You understand the reason why you’ve been called forth?” demanded Nrar when Óin was standing before him. 

“You will have to speak up, laddie!” Óin said happily, brandishing his ear trumpet. “I’m afraid a little bit of my hearing goes every day!” 

Nrar rolled his eyes and repeated his question louder, then louder still when Óin asked him to repeat. 

“YES!” Óin shrieked out, causing a couple of dwarves to smirk in amusement. “YES, I KNOW WHY I AM HERE, REGENT NRAR!”

“Clearly toying with him,” Óin saw one of the dwarves mouth to her friend. 

A vein went off near Nrar’s mouth. “It’s King Nrar now,” he said, but Óin pretended he didn’t hear. 

“I’ve called you to report to me and the rest of Erebor on the current status of this plague that has apparently poisoned this mountain! I do not see any of my own guards succumb to the illness!” 

“And lucky they have not!” Óin said, still in a loud voice. “If you’ve noticed most of the sick patients are those living in the lower parts of the mountain!” 

“But my Kíli - my beloved Kíli - has also been stricken!” 

“Other maladies have stricken my King, but that is not why I am here to report unless you want me to!” He grinned at Nrar, whose eyes flared up in warning. 

“And I would say it all here, right now, had I not valued the life of every dwarf in this mountain,” Óin thought before straightening up. 

“But since that’s not the case…” Óin looked out to the dwarves attending, to the concerned loved ones and his own pupils ready to take notes of their teacher’s report. Throwing up his arms in the air, Óin’s voice boomed out, “ _HEAR MY WORDS!_ When examining a patient stricken by this disease, what I notice first is significant bardycardia-

“Which is?”

“An abnormally low heart rate, sir,” Óin said then began talking quicker and louder, ignoring any more questions. “As I was saying, the patient first exhibits bradycardia even after ingestion of a strong analeptic. Symptoms of rhabdomyolysis, tenesmus, and hypnolepsy soon accompanies the poor miserable patient, though not all symptoms may be present for everyone. And I’m afraid that was only the beginning! The patient then begins to develop encephalitis and the first signs of tetany. I could only help him for so much, what with odynophagia on top of everything else, making the administration of medicine difficult! Of course, all of this ends up leading to bronchopneumonia, which I do plan on treating with synergism once I figure out the optimal combination of medicinal herbs!” 

A ringing silence followed after he was done, standing there with a big grin on his face and looking around the stunned and confused faces of the dwarves, students and citizens alike. Among them a small voice asked, “Does this mean we’re all going to die?” but no one else moved. 

“Enough!” Nrar growled, standing on his feet. “Take this old bat off my sight!” 

Óin gripped the hand of the guard coming to collecting him, surprising him with a smile and thanking him for his help. 

“There was no sense in his words,” Vestri said as the crowd dispersed and he and Austri were making their way back to their home. 

“Oh, I don’t think it was supposed to make sense, brother,” Austri said. He leaned closer so only his twin would hear. “It was a puzzle. For me.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Isn’t that what Óin told me not two hours ago? To listen carefully? A puzzle was coming my way, and it certainly did! None other than him, of course! He wanted me to have this message.” 

“And how do you know that’s a puzzle with a message?” 

“There was a pattern. All puzzles, riddles, games…they have a pattern that you must figure out, and in this case, a message for us. Óin’s puzzle is really simple, actually. I’ll show you later.” 

“So you noted the pattern? Wait… you mean all that bunch of medical talk that makes no sense to the layman is the puzzle?” 

Austri grinned. “Exactly. You’re learning, brother. I remembered his entire speech - if you take the first letter of each word…here, follow me.” 

They had reached their home, and Austri wasted no time. He pulled out a piece of parchment paper and wrote every medical word mentioned, one word per line. Then he drew a rectangle over the first row of letters and showed it to Vestri: 

_Bardycardia_  
Analeptic  
Rhabdomyolysis  
Tenesmus  
Hypnolepsy  
Encephalitis  
Tetany  
Odynophagia  
Bronchopneumonia  
Synergism 

“Bar the tombs?” Vestri read. 

“You’ve heard the rumors, surely,” Austri said. “People suspect Nrar is searching for the Arkenstone. But no one’s seen it since the funeral of King Kíli’s uncle and brother.” 

“Now that you mention it, I think I remember seeing our king leave the tombs without the Arkenstone,” Vestri said. “Of course it was not my business to ask him.”

“If you noticed, then others must have.” 

“But this was years ago! Why wait this long to tell us?” 

“Because Nrar is getting closer to finding out, and our king does not want him to find the stone for whatever reason.” 

Vestri nodded. “Some of the things I’ve heard…it makes me shudder to think this was all going on behind our backs.” 

“I know what you mean,” Austri said. “And Nrar walks around as though King Kíli has already died. That dwarf is turning sour, and this is more reason to follow Óin’s orders.” 

“Nrar will know we did it. We could be killed, the first of a dwarven kinslaying!” 

“And risk seeing him with the Arkenstone? I don’t know what he plans on doing with it, but if Kíli’s been refusing to have him take hold of it, then it’s good enough reason for me. Now we have to find some way to tear down that wall.”

* * *

Nrar watched the damned healer leave, chatting away happily with the guards as if nothing was amiss. He was almost tempted to call the guards back and order Óin to be tortured, but that was when the doll caught his eye.

Some dwarf had dropped their doll on the ground, and the smile and bright eyes of Kíli was geared towards Nrar. Hissing, he picked it up by the neck, suddenly wishing he still had Kíli with him. Why torture Óin when he could relish in the pure bliss of tormenting his Kíli? The thought filled his mind, and his body ached to be inside Kíli once more. 

“Wicked is he who conspires against the king.” 

Nrar took a step back, glancing back at the doll. The wide smile, mocking him. He shook his head and glanced about himself, intent on catching who uttered the foul words. 

“Wicked is he who raises a hand against another dwarf.” 

The voice, so much like his, like Kíli’s. Nrar studied the doll, noting that it had a soft body. He gave the doll’s belly a squeeze. 

“Damned is he who hurts me,” the doll said. 

Growling, Nrar made his way out the throne room and down the steps. Finding the toy shop took some time; he had passed it perhaps once or twice but gave it no heed before, but he did not stop to ask for directions. 

The dwarf was there at the counter organizing small boxes, unaware that Nrar was approaching. After throwing the Kíli doll onto the counter, Nrar reached over and struck the dwarf heavily across the face.

* * *

Bofur recoiled. He had not even noticed Nrar enter, and now seeing him his shock turned to a scowl.

“What business do you have here?” he spat out angrily. The sound of Bifur’s chair squeaking as he stood up was not noticed by either dwarf. 

“It’s you, I knew it,” Nrar hissed. “You’re the one making these….disgusting talking dolls slandering your new king!” 

Bofur’s face softened. “What?” 

“How many of these foul dolls have you sold already? Do you not know you can be charged for treason, and I assure you, you will _not_ get away unscathed this time!” 

“I…these dolls don’t talk,” Bofur said, turning to Bifur who had just joined his side. “Do you know anything about these talking dolls, Bifur?” 

Bifur studied the doll, then turning to Bofur he shook his head. 

“We have a way to make dolls talk,” Bofur said. “Just ‘Ma’ or ‘Da,’ you see. Not complete sentences, and certainly nothing meant to slander anyone!” 

“ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR, DAMNED DWARF! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Another strike against the cheek, and Bofur had to fight every part of him not to strike him back. His neck creaked from the impact. 

“We never would!” Bofur said hurriedly, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. Would Óin do anything to hurt him? “He would never!” Bofur thought. “He had me stay here!” 

Bifur nodded at Bofur’s words as Nrar glared at him. “And does this idiot talk at all, or did that axe make him dumb and crippled?” 

Bofur glanced nervously at Bifur, who remained silent and still. A loud bang made him jump, and turning around he saw Nrar’s hand next to the doll on the table. 

“Cut him open,” Nrar ordered angrily. “Cut Kíli open. Prove to me your innocence!” 

Bofur glanced at Bifur again silently, who just nodded again. He retrieved his whittling knife from the pocket of his apron and slit the doll open from neck to belly. Stuffing protruded out, and Bofur removed it all, setting everything aside for Nrar to examine. He showed Nrar the inside of the hollowed doll.

A mad light lit in Nrar’s eyes as an awful sneer appeared on his face. “Open the head. Come now, take Kíli apart.” 

Bofur obliged, sickened as he was by the strange pleasure in Nrar’s voice. There was nothing inside the doll’s head save for more stuffing. The arms and legs were next, and he even had to locate a talking doll that they did have in the shop to show Nrar the mechanism of making it talk. The “Ma”s and “Da”s didn’t even sound distinct, only noises produced when the contraption inside the doll was squeezed. 

“I’m sorry, but this doll doesn’t talk,” Bofur said. “I do not know what you heard, but it did not come from this doll.” 

The look in Nrar’s eyes were indescribable. “Impossible,” he said under his breath. He glared up at Bofur, as if it was somehow his fault, before storming out without another word. 

Bofur counted until he could let out a deep sigh and small scream of rage. “Had he stayed here a minute longer, I do not think I could have controlled my temper.” He turned to Bifur. “You don’t happen to know anything about a talking Kíli doll, would you?” 

“Not a thing,” Bifur said calmly. “Did not expect to see Nrar this enraged. Must be going mad; why would he think a Kíli doll would slander him? You wouldn’t happen to know anything about slandering the regent, would you?” 

“Nothing that I’ve heard publicly,” Bofur said. “You seem to be awfully calm for someone who was insulted and had to watch me get throttled.” He chuckled, although secretly he was shaken over going through that ordeal. 

Bifur smiled at Bofur. “There are some things not worth getting riled over, cousin.” He turned back to his work, adding under his breath, “His time will come.”


	14. The Walls of Dol Guldur

“I told you already! I threw the doll down just so it would annoy Nrar the moment he saw it,” Óin said cheerfully. “I didn’t think it would actually talk!” 

“Exactly!” Bofur said, frustrated. The dinner plate set before him lay untouched. “It wasn’t meant to! Nrar thought I was conspiring against him!” 

Óin chuckled as he set his spoon down. “But he is right, isn’t he? You _have_ been conspiring against him.” 

“But not like this! I admit I wondered if you had done something to the doll after buying it from me!” 

“I operate on dwarves, not toys,” Óin said simply before returning to his meal. 

Bofur’s face fell; Óin clearly didn’t care at all what he had been through. 

“Nrar claimed it was talking?” Glóin said incredulously before glancing at his brother. “The dwarf’s getting mad!” 

“Everyone’s getting mad,” Bofur muttered, thinking of how Bifur had just stood there witnessing his own cousin being throttled by Nrar and not lifting a hand in mercy. He picked up a fork reluctantly. Though he had no appetite this evening, he felt it would be rude not to eat anything Glóin’s family offered him, as he had barged in on them just as the table was being set. 

“What of work at the bank?” Óin asked Glóin. “Has he visited you?” 

“Of course, and several times!” Glóin said. “Keeps asking to see every vault every member of the royal family had kept, as if there was anything of value there! I knew what he was after of course, but I would keep his requests in limbo until I could find no other reason to keep him waiting. But I don’t know how much longer I can keep him at bay. He’s seen most of the vaults already, and he’s asked several of my fellow bankers if they’ve seen Kíli bring in the Arkenstone. They’ve all given him conflicting accounts, bless them, just to keep him searching with us. But he’s going to start looking elsewhere. I hope your message got through to Austri and Vestri.” 

“Why would a dwarf of the royal family need to keep something in the bank?” Gimli cut in. He had been growing restless being stuck in home all day pretending to be ill. Already he has read through all of the books in the family’s library, and Óin regularly brought more with him to entertain his nephew, but Gimli desired more to step outside his home. 

“The same reason why Kíli didn’t keep the Arkenstone in his room,” Glóin told Gimli. 

“I don’t think he would do it for that reason. He hadn’t met Nrar then,” Gimli pointed out. 

“But it doesn’t matter - Nrar thinks Kíli’s hid it in one of the family vaults!” 

Gimli threw his hands up. “What fool would hide something in a vault in a bank when the person who has the rights to it can get to it easily! That’s just one step away from keeping it on your nightstand! If Nrar really thinks Kíli’s hiding it in a vault then he is thicker than I expected, and so are the rest of you for playing his game!” 

As the two argued, Óin turned his attention back to Bofur, who had remained quiet, which was quite unlike him. Eyebrows furrowed, Óin studied Bofur’s face before leaning forward and whispering in all seriousness, “Laddie, I never would have tossed that doll had I known it talked. I bought it just because it was an innocent soft toy. I only wanted to get a reaction out of him, just to shock him a little.” 

“Then who said the words that Nrar took for treason?” Bofur asked. “Everyone is too afraid to speak out against him! That is why our rebellion has been in silence!” 

Óin shrugged. “Perhaps it was but a ghost. Or it’s all in Nrar’s head.” 

“Perhaps,” Bofur said. He suppressed a shudder at the memory of Nrar’s sneer as Bofur was made to take apart the Kíli doll before him. The doll was only fabric and cotton, but it still left a sick feeling in his gut. He wondered where Kíli was at this time, and if he was all right. A month had passed since Kíli’s departure from Erebor, and Bofur didn’t know how much longer the dwarves of Erebor could keep Nrar guessing.

* * *

The travel to Dol Guldur took about a fortnight. Kíli suspected the journey would have taken much longer if he were riding a pony. The horse galloped at top speed with seldom stops unless one of them had grown exhausted or begging for a morsel to eat. Kíli tried to cover as much land as possible during the night, though he feared any orcs that may still be about. A few times he needed to rest and check the healing wounds on his body. The scars in his side especially troubled him, as he was fearing they would become keloidal from the look of them.

Their journey ran parallel to the vast forest of Mirkwood, and a few times Kíli would ponder, studying the thicket of trees, over the elven warrior whom he had befriended years before, if she would (and he knew she would) give aid to the dwarves at this time. But relations with the elven kingdom had been stiff, especially in light of Kíli’s poor leadership before Nrar had come, and Kíli knew it would take too much time to explain to them of the happenings in Erebor. And he could not waste time. The sooner he got back to Erebor the better. 

Just as Kíli, tired and aching in every limb, had begun to wonder if it was a smart choice to leave the kingdom at all, the highest towers of Dol Guldur loomed in the near distance. The air entering Kíli’s lungs drew colder, and he shivered. His horse - Blackstone he called her - stopped, neighed loudly, and would not continue. 

“It’s all right,” he said to her as he brushed her long mane. “Stay here. I won’t be long, good girl.” He had a sheathed sword at his side since the moment he entered the crate, but early on he found out that his friends had packed more weapons in of his bags. Although Kíli had already hid the other weapons, he checked the bag again to make certain none were left inside; should there be a foe about he wasn’t going to give them any chance of acquiring a new weapon. With one final reassurance to Blackstone he made his way to the old fortress. 

A great battle had taken place here while the dwarves were in the midst of their quest far away in the north, and so Kíli had never seen Dol Guldur till now. He knew the place was emptied of any filth that crawled in it along with the Necromancer who, as they had all learned, was the feared Sauron. 

The thought of Sauron made him shiver again. This was exactly the reason why he had come after reading Dwalin’s message. 

As he was wondering where he could find Dwalin, a sight before him froze his heart. Though they were a distance away from him and their heads were bowed in discussion, there was no mistaking the two dwarves before him as Thorin and Kíli’s own father Doli. They were walking in a straight line and kept their heads close together. Even from this distance he could hear (or thought he could hear) them talking, though he could not make out the words. But to hear his own father speaking, just as Kíli remembered it from many years ago, brought him a strange sense of yearning and fear. He remembered seeing Fíli not too long ago and thinking he was just being delirious in that moment, but there Thorin and Doli stood as solid and real as Fíli had been. 

And then a terrible thought came to Kíli: what if Sauron was sending him these images? What if Sauron wished to lure him away into Dol Guldur and distract him with an image of his father just long enough to attack? What if he had just walked into a trap? 

In that very moment a figure stepped before Kíli, and Kíli jumped back, reaching for his sword. 

“Kíli?” 

A blink, and Kíli let his hand fall to his side, drawing a deep sigh of relief. “Dwalin,” he said. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you, laddie,” Dwalin said with amusement in his tone. 

“I didn’t hear you approach,” Kíli said. He glanced to the side quickly. Thorin and Doli were now sitting far off, still deep in conversation. He smiled up at Dwalin. “It has been a long time.” 

“It has,” Dwalin said. “But, if you don’t mind me asking…”

“The beard, right?” Kíli said. “It’s back to how it was during the Quest.” He threw back his hood and Dwalin’s eyes went wide with shock. It wasn’t just his beard, now a stubble, nor his very short hair. The makeup that Nîlma had placed on him had long since worn off, and his bruises all shown. 

“It was Nrar,” Dwalin said in a low voice. 

Kíli nodded. “You guessed right, I’m afraid. I should have listened to you before.” 

Dwalin waved his hand. “The past is the past. But what has he done to you?” 

Kíli nodded his head, thanking Dwalin. “It is a long story, but I have to say: this is a strange place to meet, friend.” 

“Aye,” Dwalin said, “and I will tell you the reason soon, but that story is connected to another, which I think you would want to hear first as it concerns news of your mother and sister.” 

A lump formed in Kíli’s throat. “I…you have news? Are they all right? I was worried. I sent letters asking if they were all right and never received anything from them. I was beginning to think they were dead.” 

“And they would have been,” Dwalin said, which only made the color in Kíli’s cheeks pale. “They were on the road - Dís, Fann, your sister, the child, and many others, when they were attacked. Dís led the battle against the ambush, but they had to run for safety as their enemies kept coming for them, too large in number. They were hiding in a lonely cave when Balin, Dolla, and I found them and together we searched for a safe sanctuary.” 

“Is my mother here?” Kíli asked. 

“No, and I will not divulge their location for their own protection,” Dwalin said. “They don’t know I am meeting you, as I am sure Dís would refuse to allow me. After we were settled in we spoke with Dís about their attackers. She said they were dwarves and yet unlike dwarves. Oddly, there had been no orcs in the ambush. As uncertain as they were of who their attackers where, all were certain there were no orcs present. Not as tall, they said of the attackers. 

“Since we were safe in this location, I took the time to investigate. Took me a couple of years, going from land to land and asking anyone who may have noticed anything amiss. Putting the pieces together eventually brought me here. 

“I traveled to Dol Guldur to examine this place on my own just three weeks back, and I came across something I think would be of interest to you.” 

He motioned for Kíli to follow. After one glance at Thorin and Doli, Kíli followed Dwalin for several yards before his friend stopped before one of the many broken walls. 

“From the information that I gathered, I felt coming here would be of my best interest,” Dwalin said. “Of course, there was nothing here. Not a single orc or any being good or fell crawling these lands. But I examined every piece of stone here. I heard words within these walls, but I cannot make out most of them. You were always gifted in that regard, reading the past memories from stones. What can you tell me?” 

Kíli approached the wall and placed his hand against the wall. He was unsure what to expect, but as the images flooded his mind, his entire blood ran cold. He pulled away just moments later. 

“Nrar and the Necromancer spoke here!” 

For a moment all was still between them. “Nrar?” Dwalin said incredulously. 

“Yes…they were discussing something,” Kíli said, breathing heavily.

“ _Together?_ ”

“It seems so. What does Nrar have to do with the attack on my mother?” Kíli kept his hand on the wall, his fingers roaming as if reading some invisible words etched into the surface as the past replayed itself in his mind. “I do not understand…why would any dwarf ally himself with Sauron? Unless he was captured and tortured like my grandfather…or he purposely _went_ to Sauron. Dain told me Nrar was traveling for a time by himself, and when he returned he was changed, a harsher man.” 

“And yet Dain trusted him after?” Dwalin said, shaking his head. 

“I do not think it ever crossed his mind,” Kíli said. “Nrar was like Dain’s brother.” He turned back to the wall, his eyes glancing over it as if he could pick out more secrets from his eyes alone. “There is more to this story. This is just one memory.” 

He made for the next wall and repeated the process. “They were here a long time, together, Nrar and the Necromancer,” Kíli read before giving his attention to another wall, and then the other. 

“The Necromancer…Sauron…he gave Nrar something…”

“And what is it?” Dwalin asked softly, but the answer was already in their minds, but before any would answer, Kíli read more from the wall. 

“And he gave Nrar special instructions, to help him to…” 

As the images raced through his mind, fueled by the force within the stone walls, Kíli felt his entire body quiver from the terrible chill. He had been so blind. The entire kingdom had been blind. 

Shaking and wide-eyed, Kíli turned to Dwalin. “Mountain-wights! Nrar’s entire army are mountain-wights!”

* * *

Some of the servants had been growing uneasy, Janur learned. She did not openly ask them why, but she kept an ear out for any talk. Those who worked for Nrar but had no love for him whispered to one another in fear. Nrar’s own mind had been spiraling into madness.

“Caught him licking the bedsheets,” one of the servants mumbled to her friend, the words which Janur caught as she passed by. “They still had the king’s blood on it, and he refused to let any of us take it for cleaning. But I’m telling you, it’s like he wanted to taste Kíli!” 

Janur shuddered and glanced in the direction of Nrar and Kíli’s private chambers. A month had passed since Kíli left the mountain. She worked out the numbers in her mind and knew Kíli should be heading back any day now. And she hoped it would be soon. 

Inside, the private chambers could not have been in a better state. When he was not in meetings or in the public’s eyes, Nrar took apart the entire room, one drawer at a time and combed through every inch slowly for any lead as to the Arkenstone’s whereabouts or to Kíli’s inner name. He folded the articles of clothing with loving care, and stacked every piece of jewelry neatly. This he did ever since Kíli left the chambers, desperate for any lead but willing to take his time. 

Often his attention was drawn back to the bedsheets where Kíli’s blood still clung to. The blood had long since dried, but their presence and the silence of the room only pained Nrar. How he missed his beloved, Nrar thought with a dark smile. He had pushed Kíli so far, was willing to watch the young dwarf crumble in his hands and perish…but the absence now made him wish for having Kíli in his arms again. 

But Kíli was so disloyal, Nrar thought as he licked Kíli’s dried blood on the bedsheets. So dishonest. A simple question from Nrar Kíli could never answer. 

It took Nrar a long time before noticing the guard in his room. The guard had stood there patiently, as they all did. They were what Kíli could never be, unfathomably loyal to Nrar’s every command. Nrar smiled to the guard, seeing deep in the eyes of the wrath being, the soul of a once dwarf who now bowed to his every command. 

Some day Kíli will be like that, Nrar thought. He would train his beloved to give him pleasure as he had done in the past, complying with no complaints, no resistance, no more hidden secrets. 

“Where is my love now?” Nrar asked the guard. “Is he dying or has he already passed on? Neither matters, as I can bring him back. But I need only to know his inner name…see the life I can grant just from knowing your name? Now, where would he have put it, my flighty little love…where would he have placed his inner name?” 

He studied his guard’s face as one hand fiddled with the ring on his finger. “It has been long since I last visited the marriage room, but I have grown in strength since then. Perhaps now I may be able to read Kíli’s name from the black stone.”

* * *

“The story is all written here,” Kíli mused loudly as he traced the memories from within every wall. He would have never thought of coming here, but in retrospect it was so obvious. Every question he had about Nrar, from what was hidden in that glove to even the question of his mother’s absence; there it all was, the answer to every one of his questions etched in the walls of Dol Guldur.

“A dwarven ring, perhaps stolen from my grandfather before he perished here, it was given to Nrar by Sauron who was in possession of the ring,” Kíli said to Dwalin. “The ring gave Nrar power, but it is strange that Nrar is bending to Sauron’s will. None of the dwarves who had a Ring of Power ever bowed to evil. Their hearts grew greedy and they collected riches beyond anything in this world, but never did they submit themselves to the will of evil. So why Nrar? Why, when a dwarven spirit is so stubborn that it’d rather be its own master of wickedness and not a servant of another’s? And why raise a hand against another dwarf in the manner he did to me?” 

Dwalin had no answer for him but his glanced away in deep thought. 

“That is the only question that still remains, with only theories for answers, one of which I’m leaning towards,” Kíli continued. “But now I know why my mother never made it to Erebor. To have more power from the royal line in that mountain would not be in his favor. I was the weak one. He would keep me for as long as he needed, but he found reason to exile you and Balin and Dolla. And he was not hesitant to destroy anyone standing in his way, like Nori.” 

Dwalin turned to Kíli at the mention of Nori. 

Kíli sighed. “And like a fool I took him as a bond-mate. I brought him into this mountain. Without fear of Dain stopping him, he had all the chance to do what Sauron had set him out to do. I was only a nuisance - no, I was an asset to him in many ways.” He drew a deep breath. “My body was used to pleasure him when he wanted release and to entertain him when he desired to see bloodshed.”

Though Dwalin often kept his emotions at check, Kíli’s words had affected him. His teeth were bared at the thought of what Nrar had done to his friend. “He…used you for release?” 

Kíli bit his lip. “Yes. I’m not ashamed in admitting that any longer.”

“When did this happen?” 

“On the first night after our bonding. He was drinking during the celebrations and I went to sleep early. I didn’t think he would come into my private chambers since I never wanted our marriage to be one based on love. But while I was sleeping he slipped in and…” Kíli took another deep breath, “…raped me. After that he made himself at home in my own chambers. He ruled over me.” 

Dwalin closed his eyes. Had Nrar been there in that moment Kíli was sure Dwalin wouldn’t leave any inch of Nrar unscathed. “On your first night?” he said, opening his eyes slowly. “Why didn’t you ever tell us? Why did you remain with him all this time?” 

“At first I stayed with him because I thought I deserved his treatment,” Kíli said. “It was foolish, but my mind wasn’t thinking straight. I had an illness in my mind; not everyone believes in such diseases, but I cannot deny what I was experiencing. The pain is as bad as the wounds in my side right now. And as if it wasn’t enough, this mind illness, Nrar had twisted my thoughts and my mind to the point where I thought myself deserving of every inflict of pain. That year when he left the mountain, some of my friends helped me and then I finally began to see right again. But then I stayed for the others, and the longer I was with him the more hopeful I felt that I could prevent him from bringing harm to my people.” 

He smiled at Dwalin. “Don’t hate yourself. You didn’t know.” 

“It was happening before our eyes,” Dwalin said angrily. “Instead of suspecting he was wrongdoing I turned all my anger towards you.” 

“You didn’t know,” Kíli repeated. “I also didn’t understand at the time. It was a while before I realized what it was that Nrar was doing to me. And in that time I’ve spun so many lies to everyone, out of denial then out of fear, in wanting to protect myself or protect my friends or to protect him. But I don’t know why I ever protected him. Perhaps for a small while I did love him as he was the only thing in my miserable existence at the time. 

“But look at the damage! Look at my body! Look at the danger the entire kingdom is under! Every dwarf of Erebor could become mountain-wights!” 

Kíli waved to the walls. “It’s all written here. He needs the inner names of deceased dwarves to control their spirit. He must have done that to the many dwarves he’s collected all over Arda. That’s what he has been doing all these years, going from grave to grave, retrieving names, and growing his army. That’s what the guards all are. Mountain-wights meant to pass as dwarves to the naked eye. But he needs a bigger army, and what better than Erebor? Gandalf fought for this mountain to provide a power of Good for the East should Darkness rise again, and I had brought that enemy right in! Think, Dwalin, what would happen if every dwarf in that mountain, past and present, become mountain-wights! Think of how this will aid Sauron!” 

“Dolla’s dreams,” Dwalin said suddenly. “I remember them now. You heard her screams during those nights, surely?” 

“Her nightmares about the mountain-wights?” Kíli said, nodding. “I remember.”

“She was seeing them for what they were, but she could not recognize them. Her mind was telling her something in her dreams.” 

“And as did I, after some time. I dreamt about them taking over Erebor.” Kíli shuddered. “I even felt their hands on me a few times.” But then deciding he didn’t want to revisit the past few months, he quickly changed the subject. 

“Nrar wanted to turn the entire kingdom into mountain-wights, and he was going to start with me. This was why he wanted my inner name. Through it he could use it to get the inner names of all my ancestors and all of my loved ones - and it could all come from the Arkenstone! He wanted to control their souls! He was going to use each of them to make them mountain-wights!” 

“He could only do that if your inner name is in an object shared by other dwarves,” Dwalin said, “such as the Arkenstone.” 

“That jewel is safe far from him,” Kíli said. “At least I hope it is, but I know others are protecting it right now.” 

“Are there other objects you’ve put your inner-name in?” 

“Just one. A doll, but a good friend is in possession of it,” Kíli said, smiling at the memory of Bofur. 

Dwalin raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?” 

Kíli shook his head, which only made Dwalin take a step forward. 

“Kíli…you bonded with Nrar. Your inner-name and his are inside the same stone!” 

And Kíli couldn’t help but grin. “I’m more clever than you take me for, Dwalin. My inner name isn’t in that stone.”

* * *

At the time of Kíli and Nrar’s wedding there was yet no proper wedding officiant; though they were not often required in wedding ceremonies, they at least oversaw the stone chambers where the various previous couples had placed the black stones containing their inner names. Turith often worked elsewhere in the mountain, a simple shop run by her and her husband, but upon hearing from a hurried servant that Nrar was making his way to the marriage chambers she ran out of her shop.

The thought had been eating away at her mind the moment she heard the rumors. The Arkenstone was precious enough, but she had a hunch there was more to the story. Something in the king and regent’s relationship never sat well with her. Dwarven lovers were seldom ever seen apart nor quarreled in the way those two had. She suspected they hadn’t as much as shared their inner names with each other. And she would know. She married off hundreds of couples and had five children of her own. There was never a bond that rattled her as much as the one between Nrar and Kíli. 

She had seen Nrar in that chamber once before, and he had walked out shaking his head and mumbling that he couldn’t hear the name inside the stone. Of course, not all dwarves could read inside stones, though they were made from them. They were too close, the dwarven flesh and stone, and thus too sacred. But Nrar was trying to get Kíli’s inner name although he should have known as per their customs. That memory burned in her mind along with the rumors. If Nrar was trying to get Kíli’s inner name out against Kíli’s will then she had to stop him. 

It was a bad marriage. A marriage worth dissolving, though no martial bond had ever been dissolved before in such manner. Even those who entered a political marriage were often on good terms with one another before their marriage ended. 

She knew where Kíli had kept the Arkenstone hid, but her instincts told her to also protect the black stone. A few times she had considered demolishing the chambers while making it look like an accident, but the stones were sacred to many, as dwarves deeply valued such bonds, uncommon as they were in their race. 

To her relief she had beaten Nrar to the chambers. Wasting no time, she took out a bucket, hastily filled it with water, and grabbed some rags from the storage room and went about cleaning the stone blocks in the tiny room reserved for royal weddings. 

“Oi, sorry, kind sir!” she said when Nrar appeared after some time. She hopped her red cheeks weren’t too noticeable behind her beard. “I may be busy for the day cleaning this entire place up!” 

“Address me properly,” Nrar snarled, his eyes glaring down at her. 

She inwardly winced. “Of course, my king.” 

Nrar nodded slowly. “That is correct. I am now king as Kíli is no longer fit. I must examine our stone. I do not require much time.” 

“Can it not wait until tomorrow?” she said. A day would give her just enough time to alert other dwarves to create a diversion. The more time they bought the better as they waited for Kíli to become well. 

“Are you asking me to waste my time?” Nrar said. His voice was suddenly soft and pleasant, though the threat was still there. “My love is dying, and I have been growing sentimental. I wish only to examine again the place where we bonded.” 

“And risk slipping on the floor here, my king?” Turith said. 

Nrar sneered. “I am sure that will not happen. Now, _get out_. Do not disturb me. If I see you enter here I will have your husband and children’s skin torn from their backs!” 

“He is wretched!” Turith thought in fear, but she stood up. She bowed to him and apologized for being an inconvenience. As she scuttled away, she prayed Nrar’s plan would fail, and if he didn’t that King Kíli would forgive her.

* * *

Nrar made certain the old woman was well out of earshot before turning to the black stone. He still remembered that day, how he had made certain Kíli wouldn’t hear his inner name; he had pretended he didn’t know Kíli didn’t hear him, but then the fool did the same thing. Had his voice been louder, Nrar would not have taken this much time in converting the mountain for his master.

The time spent out of Erebor had done its wonders. Nrar could feel the secrets within each stone. He located the one he and Kíli had used. His breaths came heavily, and his heart beat excitedly in his chest. Kíli, his precious Kíli, was so close. 

Shaking fingers brushed against the smooth surface. This was the stone. He could still feel his own name in there, pulsing with the energy that all inner-names had. He would still need to focus all his energy on one stone, so he could not get the inner-names of the other dwarves. But that would come later. Kíli’s name was what Nrar wanted most. Getting on level with the stone and pressing his lips close, Nrar then performed the ritual. He could hear his inner name in his mind, the word pouring from within the stone. 

“Get me Kíli’s name,” he thought and searched about. Another name was there, and his heart’s beating hitched. Kíli’s inner name, just out of reach…

If he could just pull it…closer the name came to him…

He frowned, then tried the process again, reading the name over and over. But there was no name. Kíli had never spoken it; instead he had spoken inside the stone a series of jumbled, intelligible syllables. 

Rage unlike anything he ever felt consumed Nrar in that moment. He pounded against and clawed at the surface of the stone, cursing Kíli’s name and family at the top of his lungs. How could he be so foolish as to think Kíli would not think on his feet? Was the bastard not a trained warrior under Thorin Oakenshield? And he, Nrar, was the one who put his inner name in the stone…but there would be no way for Kíli to ever be able to read his name. He didn’t think Kíli was one of the gifted few who could. 

But the thought poisoned him. Kíli and he then were never wed. He had no entrance into the other inner names of the royals in Erebor; he had no right. He would have to find another way into the secrets of the sacred jewel. But where was the jewel?

* * *

“When I could not hear Nrar’s inner name, I panicked and then all I could do was talk gibberish into the stone,” Kíli explained as they walked side by side. “I wanted to ask Dain about what had just happened, but there was no time. I was still ill at the time, so I thought I was at fault for not being able to hear Nrar. And then after what Nrar did to me that night, I had other problems to worry about for a time. But I never forgot what happened, especially with Nrar always trying to get me to speak my inner name.”

“And you never uttered it?” Dwalin asked. 

“No, not even when I was tormented to the point of becoming delirious,” Kíli said. “I had trained myself to never utter it under whatever the circumstance. Wasn’t that hard. We never say our inner names to anyone in the outer world. I simply had to forget it, be Kíli inside and out.” 

“You acted well,” Dwalin said. “Thorin would have been proud of you. But it is a pity you would not have access to Nrar’s inner name in the stone.” 

“But I can retrieve information from stone, as you know,” Kíli said. “So I tried it and it worked. I know Nrar’s inner name.” 

Dwalin froze in his step, and Kíli stopped to look back at him. 

“Then you have power over him!” Dwalin said, laughing. 

“Not really,” Kíli said. “For all I know he could have been lying as I had been. Dwalin, we know the name, both of us. I was shocked to hear it, but after everything I have come across in this fortress I am starting to think I have all the answers I need to battle him. 

“But I just need one more confirmation.” 

He turned to the spot where he had seen Thorin and Doli last. Sure enough they were still there, sitting side by side and their heads bowed in conversation. 

“You don’t see them, do you?” Kíli asked, but the confusion on Dwalin’s face was answer enough. 

“Perhaps I am dying and already partway into the other world,” Kíli thought gloomily. 

He had been avoiding the final wall across from which his father and uncle sat. They seemed to be permanently frozen in their positions, never looking up. And may they never look up, Kíli prayed. To speak with the dead was to become one of them, as the saying went. But they were sitting right before the only wall Kíli had yet to examine. Perhaps all this time they were pointing him to the final piece of the puzzle. 

As he approached, Kíli couldn’t pry his eyes away from his father. His golden hair splashed around his shoulders in the exact manner as Fíli’s hair did. Dwalin was standing behind them, looking right through them and studying Kíli with concern. 

“He does not see them,” Kíli thought, and he prayed again neither of them would look up. He was becoming unnerved with how they were talking and yet no word was heard, as if all sound was sucked out in this area. They were sitting right before him, vivid and solid as though still alive, but not a single sound came from either of them. 

Kíli faced the wall, willing himself to focus on the task at hand. He brought his hand over the final wall, tracing for any memories, any more information. 

Minutes passed, and finally Kíli gave a deep sigh. “I hear Nrar’s voice,” he told Dwalin. “I hear his inner name.” 

Laughing lightly, Kíli turned to Dwalin. “I have everything then. I know how to defeat Nrar and his army!”

* * *

Where was the jewel? In the calm silence of the marriage chamber with his head buried in his hands, Nrar let his mind dig through memories and past conversations. He could not recall Kíli ever mentioning it, nor had he ever seen it in the times before their wedding. It was like Kíli had stowed it away right after the funeral.

In fact Nrar was sure he only ever saw the Arkenstone hanging over Kíli’s chest then, its brightness noticeable even from a far distance. That day Nrar kept his eyes on him, his desire setting even then, to somehow take that crown away from Kíli. And that stone, so beautiful it was a pity it wasn’t seen since. 

Nrar was sure he had kept his eyes on Kíli the entire time of the funeral, but there was one moment when he almost missed Kíli leaving the hall of tombs. He caught sight of Kíli’s back just before the young king disappeared, shrouded in darkness. 

Nrar raised his head. There was no light then. The Arkenstone was so bright that its light could be seen even with Kíli’s back towards him, but in that moment when he saw Kíli leave he did not recall seeing anything shining bright around him. 

Nrar straightened up, eyes wide. “Damned child,” he hissed, before storming his way out the chamber and heading for the tombs.

* * *

“I have to get back before the month is over,” Kíli said as he raced towards Blackstone.

“Let me go with you!” Dwalin said. 

“No! I have only one horse and I cannot waste a second! Please protect my family!” 

“What do you need me to do in the meantime? Contact Dain? Gandalf? If we have dwarven Rings of Power at play here -”

“Anyone!” Kíli said. “Or everyone! But please make sure my mother and sister and all of them are far away and safe from Erebor. I fear this could dissolve into a war if I don’t make it in time, and worst of all I fear a kinslaying, the first between our kind!” 

Upon seeing him, Blackstone stood stock still to allow him to mount her. It took a moment for Kíli to readjust to the height, and he gave a sharp intake of breath at the stabbing pain in his side. He would need Óin to examine him again after he returned and took care of Nrar. He turned to Dwalin to give him a nod. “Thank you for everything,” Kíli said, smiling sadly. 

Dwalin nodded. “Forgive me for ever doubting you.” 

“It is in the past,” Kíli said. He lowered himself just as Dwalin raised his arm, and they clasped each others hands before Kíli straightened up and commanded Blackstone to go. Dwalin watched Kíli ride off at full speed back to Erebor.


	15. The Kinslayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: violence towards the end. This is after all the final showdown. :)

Without as much of a greeting, Thorin placed a tiny flask before where Fíli and Kíli sat, both who were waiting for him. Kíli reached for the flask, but Thorin stilled his hand. 

“Careful,” he said. “A potion such as this was very hard to come by, and harder still to make.” 

“What is in it?” Fíli asked. He studied the potion from afar, careful not to let even a gust of air from his breath tip the bottle over. 

“The only reason your mother will allow me to take you,” Thorin said, indicating to both dwarves. 

Kíli’s eyes brightened up. “She’s agreed to it, then! But what’s the potion for?” 

“Should any of us be under threat of death, a drop of this potion will put you in a dreamlike state and you will easily be mistaken as one of the dead. No danger can come to you then, and you will wake up some time later. Only the three of us in the Company know of this potion.” 

Fíli and Kíli both studied their uncle wordlessly. The tales of such potion were held to be a myth, a relic in stories meant to entertain. 

“Such potions exist?” Fíli said as he leaned forward. “But, I suppose it makes sense. Mother would never let us go otherwise.” 

“There’s enough for us three, possibly more,” Kíli noted. “But what of Balin? Mother and he were friends since they were still in diapers! And Dwalin?” 

“The contents in that flask drained what money I had left,” Thorin said, which brought about more silence. Though they were far from poor - the Longbeard dwarves of Erebor had long since established a new small kingdom in the Northern Blue Mountains - but to hear their own leader and uncle speak of losing much money made them both realize the severity of their situation. “I would rather lose one of them then one of you. Remember that.” 

He left. The two brothers shared a look and quietly vowed that they would fight hard and not do anything that would put either of them in danger. Should any of the other members be injured, they would give the potion to them. 

“Mother had to gone through losing so many members of our family,” Kíli thought. “She won’t lose any more.” He made to grab the flask, but Fíli got to it first. 

“Aren’t you worried it’ll break with all those knives you’re wearing?” Kíli asked, grinning. 

“No, just want to make sure I can get you out of danger if that time comes,” Fíli said. 

“But it’s for all of us, the entire Company!” 

Fíli nodded. “I know. But I am also the older brother who would rather die than see any of his siblings pass away.” 

“As long as you also survive,” Kíli said. 

Fíli smiled and ruffled Kíli’s hair. “Don’t worry about me and Uncle. And should worse come to worse, you know that death is but passing into the Halls. We will always watch over you.” 

Fíli kept his smile, by Kíli stared at him with one eyebrow raised. 

“Don’t do anything rash,” Kíli said. “Just this morning Fann told you she’s with child! You’re going to live - promise!”

* * *

The cry startled Balin enough to drop the box he was carrying. The clatter of the box’s contents rang in the dark hall, but Balin could still hear the anguished wails. There was no doubt where they came from, and fear froze Balin in his place. But he was being silly, he told himself. The legends of mountain wights were just that - legends, though many swore by the ancient tales. The dead could not walk, and there was nothing left of them. He had helped in bathing the three…

“You heard it too,” Dwalin’s voice drew Balin away from his thoughts. He was joined by Dori and Ori, both looking shaken but willing to investigate. 

“It is coming from the tombs,” Balin said. He hoped the fear in his voice was not evident. 

Ori shook his head. “Near the tombs,” he said. 

He was right; the sound was past the tombs where the ancient kings of Erebor were buried. The closer they got, the more familiar the voice became. But doubt plagued Balin up until his hand was at the doorknob of the chamber where the dead were washed. It couldn’t have been; he had prepared them. He would have noticed if there was a mistake. 

“Mahal’s mercy!” Dori cried out at the sight before them. 

Kíli was leaning over Fíli’s cold body, shaking him and screaming at him to wake. 

“He will not wake,” Kíli whimpered, seeing them. “But he promised!” 

“Goodness, how is he alive?” Dori said, panicked. “Has a mountain wight got to him?” 

“No,” Balin said, realizing then why Thorin had taken his sister-sons on such a dangerous journey. 

Dwalin had guessed as much as Balin did, and he closed the gap between himself and the surviving prince. Gently he dragged Kíli away. He whispered to Kíli as soothingly as he could, while tears streaked his own face, that Thorin and Fíli were indeed dead, that they had not drunk the potion in time to save themselves. 

“ _NO! He promised!_ ” Kíli’s shrieks filled the air.

* * *

Nrar passed several dwarves, all who turned to look at him in fear, but he did not notice. His mind, aflame with what lay for him, kept his feet moving fast. After passing each flight of stairs his heart would give a jump. What a beautiful present Kíli had left for Nrar. He would not have it any other way, to take the Arkenstone and the link to every dwarf of the royal line. He would need to find another way to crack into the Arkenstone’s secrets, but a solution could be found. The important thing was finally taking what was rightfully his. There weren’t many flight of stairs left before he reached the lowest level of the mountain. 

As he stepped onto the next landing, a tremble grew beneath his feet, growing so vast in intensity that a second later Nrar was thrown off balance just as a massive blast was heard echoing throughout the entire hall, accompanied by screams and shouts of nearby dwarves. 

“What is happening?” Nrar wondered as he got to his feet. “Was this an earthquake?” But he was certain he had heard a blast. Looking about, he saw that even some of his guards had fallen. He called for them to come forward. 

“Did you see anything?” he told his guards. “Did someone dare to set off an explosion or was this merely an earthquake?” 

The words inside their eyes was answer enough. The rage crept into Nrar again. “No, they wouldn’t,” he thought. Twice foiled? He understood Kíli doing something to sabotage his quest for the Arkenstone, but then what of the old woman who oversaw the marriage room? And what if someone else had gotten to the tombs before him? 

“Follow me,” he ordered his guards before rushing down towards the tombs.

* * *

Kíli laced his fingers through Blackstone’s mane. “Please,” he urged her. “I know we have rode a long way and almost nonstop, but I must get back to my mountain!” 

He looked up, his eyes scanning the Lonely Mountain. It was still too far, but how much he wished he could fly straight into it in that moment. An unsettling feeling bubbled in his stomach. 

“Please, Blackstone,” Kíli begged. “I know we barely slept the night before, and I promise we will get our rest tonight if you only keep moving now!” 

To his relief, Blackstone rode on.

* * *

The twin morticians were assessing the damage of the tombs by the time Nrar reached them. 

“Well, at least no one is barred inside,” Austri said happily upon noticing Nrar. “It was a bit of a fright, you know, and how strange was that earthquake! We may be able to clear the way eventually, but who knows if there are any aftershocks that might come soon.” 

Nrar did not speak a word. His eyes scanned from the tombs, to the mortician twins, then back to the tombs. The royal room was the one sealed, but Nrar found that he was not surprised in the least. 

“Of course,” he said softly. “T’was no accident, but a scheme.” 

Neither of the twins spoke, but Nrar studied their faces. They were always a mischievous bunch, those two, from what he remembered of their lives in the Iron Hills. 

“Do not fool me,” he hissed at them, his voice growing louder as he inched towards them. “Think I cannot put the pieces of the puzzle together myself?”

“Well, you were never as good as me,” Austri cut in, earning himself a cold glare from Nrar. 

“Shut up!” Nrar straightened himself. “That was no earthquake, not from the smell of gunpowder in the air! What sort of dimwit do you take me for - _shut up, Austri_! You two were conspiring against me!” 

“Well, if that is your theory,” Vestri began cheerfully, but silenced himself immediately with Nrar’s glare turning to him. 

Nrar continued. “You know exactly what it is I seek! And you did this, thinking you could stop me!” He leaned back, studying them. Neither blinked nor tried to deny him, but they both stared into his eyes, fearless. “Guards, arrest them!” 

As his men complied, Nrar felt the rage build inside him again. It would take too long to get all of the stone out of the tombs, and he did not know how much of the stone had fallen inside. 

Someone was to pay for all of this, the more blood the better. 

“Someone has been planning this against me,” he said, not glancing at the twins whose wrists were bound behind their backs. “You were but pawns to this ultimate plan. Tell me, why didn’t I hear a word of this? But, oh yes…it must have been Kíli all along!” Kíli, and that dwarf he was liking to, Nrar realized. 

Fists clenched, he turned back to the twins. “The medic - bring me the medic. And search the mountain for that wretched toymaker, and find Kíli even if you must evacuate every household! And the old woman who took him from me - find her as well! As for these two,” he pointed to Austri and Vestri, “prepare them for their execution!”

* * *

At long last they reached the mountain. Kíli steadied Blackstone as they reached the long stretch of clearing before the main entrance. He had intended to enter the mountain from the side, but even from this distance Kíli could see something was amiss. Normally the entrance were swarmed with Nrar’s guards, always poised and on the lookout. But today there was not a single person. 

“This isn’t right,” Kíli said under his breath. He slid off Blackstone and patted her mane, though his eyes kept to the mountain entrance in case a guard suddenly appeared. But none came. Kíli relieved Blackstone of her burden and gave her a final bit of carrot for her help. 

“You’ve done well,” Kíli told her. “Go back to your master, and thank you.” 

With a neigh she turned around and galloped away, leaving Kíli alone at the front of Erebor. 

There was too much silence, Kíli suddenly realized with a dreadful lurch. “I hope I am not too late.” 

As he made for the front gates, his arm was outstretched, touching the stone walls of the mountain absent-mindedly. 

“It happens tonight.” 

Kíli jumped and glanced about himself, but no one was there. He turned to the mountain’s surface and placed his hand there again. Before he was too distracted to pay attention to the words until they penetrated into his mind, but now he could hear several voices were within the walls, all with words of warnings. 

“A kinslaying happens tonight.” 

Kíli took a step back, battling the sense of unease in his stomach. “If it should come to that, then it will be a kinslaying by my own hand,” he said under his breath before making his way to the gates. 

The halls were packed with dwarves. With his hood over his head, Kíli was able to walk among them without being identified, which he needed to understand what the commotion was about. He prayed no one had died, that his friends were all safe. There was so much talk around him he could not begin to discern what the discussion centered around. 

And then he saw them, Nrar’s guards. The mountain-wights, Kíli thought as he studied them. Seeing them again, he could never understand how he had been fooled for so long. Even with their bodies as dwarvish, there was the sense of their looming, hidden danger. Perhaps this was something they had all felt; hadn’t the other dwarves complained about how much the strange guards unsettled them? 

Kíli kept moving, keeping his eye peeled for any sign of his friends. It seemed every house had been evacuated, but why were those orders given? What has Nrar done while Kíli was away? Did it have anything to do with Bofur, and was he safe? 

“If anything happens to anyone because I gave away the location of the Arkenstone, I won’t ever forgive myself,” Kíli thought worryingly. 

“Laddie-love?” 

Kíli turned around, his eyes meeting those of Bofur. He was standing beside Bifur and Bombur and the rest of the family. Behind them were more of Nrar’s guards, but they made no move upon seeing Kíli. 

What relief Kíli had in seeing Bofur and the others vanished when he realized that Bofur was also wearing a long cloak and hood, and that the others were standing as if to keep him hidden. 

“You’re back,” Bofur mouthed the words. 

Kíli approached them. “What happened?” he signed to them, making certain his hands could not be seen by the guards. 

“We protect Arkenstone,” Bombur replied in iglishmêk. “Morticians and Bofur in trouble for treason. Nrar ordered for their deaths.” 

“Oh Mahal!” Kíli thought. 

“I am ready to fight him!” Bofur signed. 

“You will not!” Kíli motioned to the guards behind them with a quick glance. “Be aware of your every step,” he signed. “They will wipe out everyone. They are mountain-wights.” 

He repeated the signs for the last two words, letting it sink into their minds. The shock as the revelation dawned on them grew with each passing moment. Their bodies froze up, suddenly too petrified to move. Bombur signed to Minyu upon seeing her questioning look. One of the children also saw it, and they signed to each other quickly. Kíli watched as one dwarf took note of their words and turned to his partner to sign the message. Slowly, the news spread, indicated by wide eyes and paling of the cheeks. 

“It all makes sense now,” Bofur said, his mouth moving silently. He closed his mouth tightly shut as if the guards could hear him, and he was not alone. The shock and fear was inside every dwarf in that moment. 

“Kíli?” 

Kíli froze at the sound. Then slowly he turned around to face Nrar. There was more surprise than anger in the regent’s face face as he studied Kíli. 

“You are alive,” he said simply, then reached out to touch Kíli’s cheek as he scanned the clothes Kíli was wearing. “You’re healed, but what is this?” 

“I was out,” Kíli said coldly. He heard someone take a step forward, but he gave a wave of his hand behind his back, hoping the dwarf would not come closer. “I had business to attend to.” 

“Without telling me first?” 

“I am the king of this mountain. I see no reason why I should ask for your leave, regent,” Kíli said before leaning forward. “I know of your inner name.” 

Before another word could come out of him, Nrar clamped his hand tight over Kíli’s mouth as the other arm wrapped over his body, locking him in place. Kíli heard gasps behind him and Bofur calling out Kíli’s name, drawing Nrar’s attention to him. The grin he gave Bofur sent chills down Kíli’s spine. 

“There you are,” Nrar said softly. “The other dwarf I was looking for. Guards! Take this simpleton toymaker to the others awaiting execution.” 

Kíli struggled just as other dwarves’ cries and stepped around Bofur to block him from the mountain-wights. 

“You would take the life of the owner of the mines, the gemcutters, and the smiths?” Bofur cried out, laughing madly. “And all this time you thought me just a toymaker! I orchestrated this entire rebellion against you, I Bofur son of Sviur, the backbone of Erebor! Hilarious how all this time you never knew the dwarf you so despised was the one running half this mountain!” 

His words echoed in the silence, followed by some daring to laugh. 

Nrar’s eyes narrowed, his cheeks flushed, clearly humiliated. “So it is. Then for your important status you will be the first executed. Guards, take him!” 

Kíli fought against Nrar, but the dwarf had gained even more strength since Kíli last was with him. Any dwarf who stepped in Kíli’s aid was blocked off by a guard. Before everyone’s eyes Kíli was whisked off, and not far he could see Bofur, sporting bruises on his face, being taken away. Upon seeing Kíli, Bofur fought against the guards, screaming out his name and cursing Nrar. More frantic became his struggles until one guard pulled out his sword and struck Bofur in his side. Kíli’s muffled screams filled the chaos of the commotion as blood seeped through Bofur’s robes. 

Up Kíli was taken, to the royal chambers, past the throne room. 

“Why is Nrar taking me to the private chambers?” Kíli wondered in fear. Perhaps he would be locked in here, to be as far from the executions as possible. But he had to fight back. He had the greatest weapon against Nrar, but he did not forget the mountain wall’s warning: a kinslaying was to happen tonight. 

Nrar threw Kíli roughly on the floor right after kicking their bedroom door shut. In that quick moment Kíli noticed that the bloodstains, his own blood, was still clinging to the bedsheets. Adrenaline rushing, as Nrar foot went for Kíli’s stomach, Kíli rolled away, but Nrar changed course and dropped to his level, pinning him to the floor. 

“Perhaps you are wondering what my guards will do to Bofur. They will not hurt your lover,” Nrar said, sneering. “Just mutilate him enough until I can take over. And he will suffer so dearly for his crimes. His mutiny, treason, pushing into adultery another dwarf’s spouse. And I will have you watch before dealing with you.” 

“I won’t watch it because you will not get a chance to lay one finger on any dwarf, Ar-Pharazôn!” Kíli spat. 

Nrar’s eyes widened, and taking his chance while Nrar’s grip went lax, Kíli broke out of the hold and shoved Nrar away from him. 

“How did you know?” Nrar hissed, getting to his feet. 

“You can thank the dwarves you sent away from me,” Kíli said, “for they were doing well looking into your past. And I as well knew after reading your name from the black stone - yes, that gift was bestowed on me, Nrar.” He grinned. “I could not believe it at first, but I had friends who were doing their own investigation in other lands. I was taken to explore around. Everything from your inner name and to your mission sent by Sauron I know!” 

Nrar took a step towards him, but Kíli bellowed in the dwarvish ancient tongue, “ _Ar-Pharazôn, I command you to stop!_ ” And Nrar suddenly could no longer move. 

“How extraordinary,” Kíli said, laughing lightly. “The power one has over another’s soul just from knowing their inner name - my people were right in fearing others knowing their inner names. And yet here everyone knew your name before, Ar-Pharazôn, but we didn’t know you belonged to it. We knew of your old deeds in Númenor. I had mentioned it to you once before, don’t you remember? I said I would prevent my kingdom from straying down the same path as the Men of Númenor - remember those words? I was testing you then, but you were playing the role of dwarf so well and didn’t react. But I eventually found out. I got all the confirmation I needed. 

“Tell me, did the old Nrar die and you possessed his body, or were you always him, born into this life for the sole purpose of making a dwarf army for Sauron?” 

Nrar did not reply, though his eyes bore into Kíli’s. 

“I wondered and wondered why any dwarf would ever raise a hand against another dwarf,” Kíli continued. “But you are no dwarf, are you? You bring the filth and wicked deeds of the race of Men into here! The race of the dwarves isn’t without its bloody history. I will not deny that. The Firebeards had killed so many in the Battle of One Thousand Caves during the First Age, but we never slain another dwarf. Long ago, even, when a group of dwarves shared their inner names to outsiders, they weren’t put to death. They were exiled, to live the rest of their existence as petty-dwarves. We have crimes of lust and greed to material goods, but never towards another dwarf. That was what made us so hard, so stubborn that we could never bend to Sauron’s will not even when we possessed a dwarven ring of power. I am sure it drove him mad. How to get this stubborn race to comply with him? Perhaps he could taint us with the ills of another people!” 

And all this time Nrar still did not speak. His eyes never left Kíli. 

“How much like Ar-Pharazôn you seem now that I know the full story. You betrayed an entire civilization to Sauron for petty desires. Ar-Pharazôn forced a woman, his own cousin, into marriage only for him to take power. You come to do that again with me, but I am not Tar-Míriel and I will not stand idly as you attempt to poison this mountain! My people have done wrong in their history, but we never shed blood from another dwarf. We never forced another dwarf into acts they never consent to, and we never will. I will not have my people tainted by the same ills that poison the race of elves and men!” 

Kíli’s glare bore into Nrar’s eyes. 

A smile finally cracked on Nrar’s face. “I never meant to marry you,” he said, “though you gave me something to enjoy as I carried out my plan.” Kíli took a step back, studying him carefully. 

“I had my eye on Erebor when I first heard news that Thorin Oakenshield was gathering a company to retake the mountain. I knew the Arkenstone would be easy to take once the dragon was done away with, so long as a living heir of Durin claimed it. I carried the news to Sauron to be relayed to Azog the Defiler. He was to take care of your uncle. But what of the nephews? I was to kill you both when the orcs and goblins attacked the mountain. The three heirs of Durin would fall, and upon my counsel Dain would employ his son as King under the mountain, and I would be his advisor. I would then kill Thorin Stonehelm and take the mountain as my own! 

“But then you lived. I only caught sight of that potion just as your brother was feeding it to you. Of course I knew what it was. I settled for killing the older brother while no one else was looking.” 

“But they were orc arrows!” 

“That I took from an orc I slain!” Nrar laughed. “The bastard was so close to taking the potion, but I got him. Three beautiful shots in his back, and he fell on top of you. Was he waiting to meet a child his wife was carrying? Pity I could not get to them to reunite that family. I am truly a considerate dwarf. 

“But in the end it all worked out. Your mind could not take the strain of being the only survivor of your family, and I was called to assist you. And your body was my wine on many nights. I’ve grown to love you.” He gave Kíli a mockery of a tender smile. 

Kíli felt something leave him which he could not explain; to think that even then Nrar had been ripping loved ones out of Kíli’s life…He thought he could see Fíli behind Nrar then, taking a good look at his murderer. With a pang in his heart Kíli realized that all this time, Fíli kept the only promise he could keep: to watch over Kíli. To survive along with him was out of the question. 

“You sicken me,” Kíli spat at Nrar. 

“I am glad I do,” Nrar said. “I will keep that in mind as not to disappoint you when I kill your allies.” And he raised his voice, calling out for his guards. 

“NO!” Kíli raised his head and bellowed at the top of his lungs in Khuzdul, “ _Guards! Mountain-wights who follow the orders of Ar-Pharazôn! Cease all of your commands and adhere to my words as your new master! Cease all orders commanded to you by Ar-Pharazôn! Adhere to my words!_ ” 

The world about them rumbled. Even from this distance Kíli could hear the guards chanting, “Cease all orders!” and suddenly there was a mad commotion below them, shouts and shrieks and sounds of swords being drawn. 

“ _Do not lay one hand on any dwarf, slaves of Ar-Pharazôn!_ ” Kíli’s voice boomed out before he was tackled to the ground, Nrar’s hand pressing over his mouth. Kíli bit hard into the flesh, earning himself a slap, but it gave him a chance to wiggle out. 

“Do not think of commanding my army!” Nrar hissed as he made for Kíli’s neck, but Kíli moved at top speed, grabbing and firmly holding Nrar’s hands in place. 

“I have possession of your inner name, and in which I can command anyone and anything connected to it!” Kíli shrieked. As he twisted Nrar’s wrists, Kíli kicked Nrar painfully on his stomach. “If there is to be a kinslaying, then it will be by my hand - _by my hand!_ ” He threw himself over Nrar, pinning the dwarf to the ground. Seeing the dwarf in this position, so often the position Kíli had taken in the past, awoke a madness in him fueled further by the truth of his brother’s death. “How much you’ve hurt me in the past! And for what? To bleed into my people the filth of the elves and men! To prepare us to be sheep under Sauron!” His own hands slid around Nrar’s neck. “I will not give you that satisfaction, Ar-Pharazôn. I will be the first to draw blood, your blood!” 

He squeezed with all his might, his legs wrapped around Nrar’s arms, so very much like how Nrar had done to him before. Remembering every moment when Nrar brought him agony, Kíli lifted Nrar’s head and slammed his head repeated onto the ground, harder and harder. 

Then suddenly, a sharp pain struck Kíli’s side in his old wound, causing his foot to slip as he winced from the pain. It was all that was needed for Nrar to slide out of his grasp. He brought his leg up under Kíli’s body and pounded him squarely on the stomach, kicking Kíli off him. Before Kíli could regain balance, Nrar picked him up by the neck and banged his head repeatedly against the door. 

“Look, you’re bleeding again, love,” Nrar hissed, laughing lightly. Kíli looked down to see a small red pool forming from his side. “Not now!” he thought frantically, studying his old wound. Nrar dug his fingers into them, sighing in bliss at the sound of Kíli shrieking from the pain. He tried to command Nrar to stop but not a single word could come out, blinded as he was by the white-hot torment. 

Nrar kissed his cheek tenderly. “Just like the good old days, isn’t it, my love?” With his free arm, he hoisted Kíli up and took him over to the bed. He pinned Kíli down, kissing him as his hand continued to dig into his old wound. “I missed you so much after you were taken from me that I began to regret trying to kill you. I would have had you chained here forever as I made my army. But you’ve done such a terrible thing in trying to destroy me with my own name. I’m afraid I will have to kill you after all.” His free hand clamped over Kíli’s mouth. “I will love you once more after you’ve parted, would that be fine with you? It’s the only means you can pay for how you’ve hurt me.” 

His hand left from Kíli’s side and clenched around his throat. While still covering his mouth and nose with the other hand, Nrar clamped down on Kíli’s throat, effectively cutting off all air. “Can’t risk you ordering my servants more, can I?” His other hand met his. With the pain in his side still searing and the lack of air, Kíli could barely even think the commands. The world was fast turning dark around him. He struggled weakly against Nrar’s hold, thinking frantically of his people out there. Should he die what would happen to them? 

“They’ve been warned,” a voice said in his head. “They will continue to fight Nrar and his men. And helping is coming.” But he needed to keep Bofur safe! “It is too late. Your brother is here to see you.” 

A strange calm was coming over him, and finally Kíli let go, surrounding into the stillness though he could still smell Nrar, could still hear. But he did not hear the door opening, nor did he see the figure creep behind them. There was just a sudden loud sound, a whoosh and a sickening cracking crunch, and a heavy weight dropped over Kíli. The minutes ticked by and the world slowly materialized before his eyes once more. 

Kíli took a deep intake of breath, wincing against the pain. Something wet was on his face and his clothes, and a moment later he realized it was blood. But it was not his own. Nrar’s body lay on his, crushing him, but the hold on his neck had gone lax. A large axe protruded from Nrar’s head; it had cleaved through half his skull, and Kíli could look at it for only a few seconds before needing to look away in horror. 

The other dwarf was still there, lingering behind Nrar, and Kíli turned shakily to the one who saved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm. Who is the kinslayer? :) 
> 
> Thank you once again for all the reviews and kudos! One final chapter left!


	16. Greetings

A few drops still remained in the flask by the time sleep filled Kíli. Fíli realized it may have been a little excessive, but it was all an act of love, to make certain Kíli got out of this alive. After checking to make certain his brother was still breathing, he raised the flask to his lips. A drop was all he needed. But before the first drop left the mouth of the flask a sudden agonizing sharp pain pierced through him. The head of an arrow protruded out of his chest, and moments later more arrows struck him. 

The world was fast disappearing before him. The flask could not help him now, not with the arrow pierced through his heart. But he kept his promise to Kíli as best as he could. Throwing his entire body over his brother, Fíli shielded Kíli from further harm as he drew his final breath.

***

Exhaling as to steady his nerves, Bifur took a step closer, his hand outstretched. “Everything all right, Kíli?”

A stifled cry came out of Kíli. He took several deep breaths, but the pain in his throat did not subside. After a moment he managed to only gasp out, “Why?” 

Bifur smiled sadly as he pushed Nrar’s body off Kíli. “An act of love.” Large arms enveloped around Kíli’s weak form, lifting him up and holding him close as though cradling his own child to his chest. “I knew for a long time. Was easy to figure out, really. I was incredibly angry of course, but I taught myself to keep my emotions in check. Didn’t want to give the army a chance of killing my cousin’s family.” He turned to study the body. “But I dreamt of this day for months when I would stop this horror from happening to you. The moment when the guards heeded your command, the dwarves took their chance. They fought off the army, but no one died. At least nothing I had witnessed. In all that madness happening it was a while before I could wiggle myself free. I found myself a weapon and came up here.” 

“No…why?” Kíli whimpered. “Why…you kin-slay…you will be punished.”

“I lived a good life.” Kíli noticed for the first time that even Bifur was covered in Nrar’s blood. “Nice swing, don’t you think? I poured all my rage into that hit.” 

The sight of Bifur speaking proudly of killing another twisted Kíli’s stomach. It wasn’t him at all, and Kíli shook his head quickly. Noticing the anguish, the features on Bifur’s face softened. 

“Better him than you, Kíli. You were practically my own child; I would never let him continue harming you.” 

“No…you shouldn’t…” 

With his side searing in pain, the shock still gripping his body, and the familiar scent and comforting hold of Bifur, everything came crashing down in that moment. Overwhelmed by everything that had happened since the day on the battlefield, Kíli wept heavily. Bifur held him closer, hushing him comfortingly as he took him out of the royal chambers. 

“ _A’dad._ ” Hearing Kíli calling him ‘father,’ the first time ever since they met, melted Bifur’s heart and he had to fight back his own tears. He kept the anger in for so long, that silent desperation to pluck out the danger that threatened Kíli. He knew something was wrong early on - felt compelled to do something about it the moment he sensed the relationship changing between Kíli and Bofur. But for too long he needed to put on an act, and in that time Kíli suffered so much, sustaining injuries that would take years to heal. 

He tightened his hold on Kíli, humming to him softly as he made for the flight of stairs and into the main halls. Dwarves everywhere turned and stared, noting the blood covering them both. 

“The king’s injured! Bring him here!” one called out, and nodding, Bifur followed to where the dwarf pointed. Guards stood mingled with the crowd, still as death yet unthreatening. 

They were led to a clearing made in the middle of a street. Dwarves either lied or sat over rolled out blankets and rugs from the local shops, sporting minor injuries. Medics, among who was Óin, helped settle Kíli over a spot, and Bifur settled beside him, helping the healers by cutting clothe into strips to be used as dressing. 

“Quite a lot of injuries from that brief battle,” Kíli heard someone mention. “No casualties, I hope?” 

“None, but it’s not easy to tell just yet,” said another healer as he tended to a dwarf Kíli recognized as one of the morticians. “All minor injuries so far, thankfully.” 

Seeing Kíli, Óin rushed to him, calling for aid. 

“ _Where’s Bofur?_ ” Kíli thought, and suddenly felt a brush against his fingers. He turned his head to the right, seeing Bofur smiling sadly. He was stripped of his robes and tunic; thick bandages wrapped around his middle, and a large white patch was over the spot where the guard had stabbed him. 

“I will be fine, they said,” Bofur said, noting Kíli’s concern. “What of you?” 

“Nrar tore my side wound again,” Kíli said as healers worked on him. “It’s my old wound. It’s been hurting on and off during my travels to Dol Guldur, and it hurt again while I was fighting with Nrar. He dug his fingers into me again, tried to reopen the entire wound.” 

“A fine job he did of that!” one of the healers hissed as she studied Kíli’s wound before relating the message again to Óin in sign. 

“Get me more of that salve!” Óin called out to a helper. 

“I hope it is not infected,” Kíli said, but Óin didn’t speak. The old healer mumbled scathingly about Nrar, and as he did so Bofur held Kíli’s hand in his, trying to get Kíli’s attention back to him. But Kíli’s eyes were either staring off in the distance or studying Bifur; Bofur wasn’t certain which one it was. 

He tried again. “Kíli, look! Our wounds mirror each other!” 

Kíli turned to study their wounds, only smiling faintly before his attention waned in another direction again. 

“Is…where is Nrar?” Bofur asked, shifting closer to Kíli only to be chided by one of the healers. 

“The king!” a voice boomed up ahead. “I must see him at once! By Mahal what has happened here!” 

All turned to see Dain Ironfoot step into the street, followed by many of his guards and other dwarves, one of whom Kíli recognized as Nori. Dain’s eyes surveyed the dwarves lying about before noticing Kíli. Óin and the healers got to their feet just as the dwarven king ran to Kíli. The dwarf still held onto Bofur’s hand, his attention now on Dain, but he did not make any move to rise. Bofur’s thumb brushed over Kíli’s knuckles in comfort. 

“Kíli, I have received multiple troubling messages,” Dain began. “I hope I have not been too late. I could not believe them at first, but I had to come here at on-” 

Kíli took a deep breath. “He’s dead. Nrar is dead.” 

The silence carried throughout the street. Bofur’s hold lessened for a moment before tightening his grip. The shock and sadness were evident in Dain’s eyes, but he closed them for a few moments, taking deep breaths to grieve his old friend. 

“He’s harmed you,” he said at last. “I did not think…but I had my suspicions after your last letters. I only wish I thought to make the journey here before. How did he die?” 

“I killed him,” Bifur spoke suddenly, loud and clear for all to hear. 

The color drained from Kíli’s face, silently cursing Bifur for being so damn honest in this moment. Bofur rolled onto his side, not even paying attention to the pain flaring up in his side, just to get a good glare at his cousin. “By Durin’s beard you did not just say that!” 

“A kinslayer!” one of the dwarves cried out. “He’s brought the doom of the elves and men upon us!” 

Dain, ashen-faced, turned from Bifur to Kíli. “My king, I believe you must-”

“By laws he will be arrested and tried,” Kíli said, “but I will not have him executed. I do not think he is a kinslayer, for I do not believe Nrar was a dwarf.” 

“ _WHAT?_ ” Bofur’s voice echoed the dwarves around them. Bifur also turned to Kíli in confusion. 

Kíli looked to Dain pleadingly. “Please. We must hold trial.”

***

Kíli took Dain, Bofur, and Bifur with him back to the royal chambers. It didn’t occur to him just how empty the place was. Where before Nrar’s guards lined the walls, there were only now the occasional servant. Some of the guards remained, but the threat in their presence was absent. Their eyes still lingered on Kíli, but it was an empty stare, ready to move only at his command. Kíli chose to ignore them for now. Though his wound was patched up, his entire body remained weak.

A lump formed in his throat the closer they got to the bedchamber, but it wasn’t the sight of Nrar’s body that he was anxious about seeing. It was the very room itself, the memories of the last time he had slept in that bed, of everything that had happened. It was strange relief to curl up in Bifur’s arms like a child (an act which Nrar would have mocked him for) and to realize that Nrar was no more. Yet it would take time before he truly felt free from Nrar. 

The body was there exactly as it had been when Bifur and he left. Dain did not speak, but the shock in his eyes were evident; though he had some idea of what Nrar had done, Nrar was still an old friend to him, and Dain grieved for that dwarf. 

Kíli dreaded taking a step further. 

“You only have to touch him one more time and never again,” Kíli told himself. Shifting the body, Kíli spotted the gloved right hand. He felt around the fingers until he could feel the ring that Nrar wore. Then pressing his thumb and index finger around the ring, he tugged off the entire glove, taking with it the ring. 

“What are you looking at?” Bofur asked as Kíli studied inside the contents of the glove. The gold shone bright in his eyes, a beautiful gold and emerald and sapphire that captivated his gaze and ignited a hungry violent love that flickered before he clamped the glove opening shut. 

Dain answered Bofur’s question. “A dwarven ring of power. Nori relayed that to me.” 

“One of the last rings to survive,” Kíli said. “Perhaps the one my grandfather had before being taken to Dol Guldur, the same place where Nrar met with Sauron. This must be what Nori saw - Nrar with the ring. He tried to tell me, but all I had for so long were just guesses. It took a trip to Dol Guldur, to speak with Dwalin there and for me to find the truth by reading into the walls. But it adds up to everything else about Nrar.” 

He made to ask Dain a question about how Nori was able to tell him when his side began hurting. Seeing the look of horror cross Kíli’s face, Dain, Bifur, and Bofur stepped over to him and asked what the matter was. 

Kíli shook his head. “I’m still ill. I must rest before we hold trial.”

***

The trial was not to be held until Kíli was fully healed, for Óin reported that he was concerned with what he was seeing in his examinations. Kíli himself felt that he needed rest from his long travel and the battle with Nrar, and so he was taken to the infirmary in Óin’s school. He gave instructions for Nrar’s body to be prepared but not to be buried until after the trial. In the meantime, Dain gave any orders as related to him by Kíli in between naps and meals.

Bifur, meanwhile, was held under supervision by Dain’s guards, but he was not treated harshly. He was even allowed to sit near Kíli as he slept. Bofur, his own wound having fully healed, also could not part from Kíli. Bombur too joined them, but while they was allowed to be near Bifur they could not ask about what had happened in the bedchamber.

At some point Kíli awoke to Dwalin’s voice. “Is Balin also there?” he called out softly, halting the conversation that was buzzing around him. 

“He is still with the others,” Dwalin explained. “I came alone. I went first to the Iron Hills only to find that Dain had left long ago, so I came here. Don’t repeat to me the tale; Bofur’s already taken care of that.” 

“Well, what little I know,” Bofur said. “Bifur can’t say what happened in the bedchamber.” 

“In time you will know everything, Kíli said. “Have you spoken with my mother?” But he was already asleep before Dwalin was done answering his question.

***

The preparations were set for the trial, and when at last Kíli grew enough strength to get out of bed, the trial was ready to be undertaken.

Kíli would have been judge in absence of any official judicial court in Erebor, but Dain had to step in since Kíli could not decide a case in which he himself had been a victim. 

The largest hall was used to hold trial. Dwarves from every part of the kingdom attended to hear of Kíli’s testament. During his waking periods, Kíli mulled over what he was to reveal. The past few years had been built with a web of lies, secrecy, and other elements that could not be easily explained. It was to be a long story. 

And Kíli told it all to them, starting from the day when he and Fíli received the potion from Thorin. Not a single word that he uttered was a lie; he recounted every detail, of his first meeting with Nrar and his unease even then, of the agreements before the marriage, the rape, the abuse, the near suicide, Kíli’s own near criminal act of almost forcing Lofar. 

Lofar, it turned out, had been among the dwarves to accompany Dain to the mountain. He gave his own testimony after Kíli was done explaining that story. With Lofar was also Nori and a dwarf who helped him named Realla. Nori communicated his story to the chamber with blinks and mouth gestures, which Realla or Lofar would then translate into words. The full tale of how Nori came upon Nrar holding the dwarven ring of power was revealed, and in that instance Kíli showed the ring for the first time, careful not to touch it for the mere presence of it tempted him. 

After Kíli’s account concluded with his final confrontation with Nrar, Bifur was next called. Kíli held back his tears, hoping none of the dwarves would look upon his friend with hatred after today. But no face shown a hint of scorn. There was sympathy and the shared understanding of caring for one as well as a parent would to their child. 

The trial lasted hours, and to revisit every moment of agony was fast draining Kíli, but the testimonies did not end with Bifur. There were other dwarves who were called to speak. Dwalin was next, who began his tale with the tension that arose between himself and Nrar early on, their exile, and learning of the ambush against Dís. The last story drew many gasps and shouts. 

“We wondered what had happened to our queen!” cried one in the crowd. “It was Nrar all along, curse him into the Void!” Dain raised his hand for silence before continuing on. 

After Dwalin were Bofur, Bombur, Janur, and Febar, Varis, Óin (who received just a few shouts from dwarves enraged in learning that their terrible illness had all been a ruse), the mortician twins, Turith the wedding officiant, and many other dwarves with stories that Kíli hadn’t even heard until that moment. 

When it was finally over, Kíli was ready to sleep for another week. 

“And all this was happening in secret,” Dain said, amazed, after the final witness ended her story. “What for?” 

“Fear,” Bofur spoke up. “On one hand you have a regent who was silencing the real king, overtaking his throne under our eyes while making the state of the real king’s mind worse! On the other, the regent’s own guards were terrifying the people! My youngest nephews and nieces would burst into tears upon seeing them!” 

Several dwarves nodded in agreement. 

“How could anyone speak or do anything against the acting king and guarantee a guard wouldn’t punish them?” Óin said before standing up. “Oh, and if anyone would like to receive compensation for the days they missed out on work, you are free to see me!” 

Dain raised his hand to silence the hall that was filled with some laughter. “Please. The trial will adjourn for now.” 

A crick in Kíli’s back went off as he stood up wearily. He was only starting to wonder where to head off when Dain caught up with him. 

“Kíli, we must speak privately,” he said gently, and Kíli nodded. He had been meaning to speak with Dain himself, though he needed to find the words. 

After Dain shut the door he turned around and embraced Kíli. 

“Please accept my sincerest apologies, Kíli,” he said sadly. “I never knew. I was even shocked to learn a few things. His name, that ring!” 

“Was his name really Ar-Pharazôn?” Kíli asked as they parted. 

“We grew up together, and he was like my brother,” Dain said. “And never once I knew him by that name, though the Adûnaic tongue and ours share some resemblance. No, that was not the inner name that I knew for him. It was-”

“I do not wish to know it,” Kíli said hastily. “He may have been a decent and noble dwarf, but I’m afraid that will never be my memory of him.” 

Dain nodded. “That is understandable.” 

Taking a deep sigh, Kíli flopped down on a chair. “I should have said something at the wedding. Quite honestly, I should have never even asked for a regent. I should have been stronger as a king.” 

“You awoke among the dead,” Dain said. “That is no easy thing, Kíli, to see your beloveds dead right before you.” 

Kíli nodded though he still felt ashamed. “What of my friend Bifur?” 

“Ah, that.” Dain sat next to Kíli. “As for Bifur, while he will need to have to pay some penalty as he did harm a regent, he will not be executed nor exiled. As there is doubt on the matter of Nrar’s identity, I believe I can save your friend. Besides, he was saving his king and friend. Who would be punished severely for protecting their king?” 

They embraced again, Kíli thanking him. His own request was lost in his throat. 

“Not now,” he told himself, lightly touching his side.

***

When they joined again, the verdict was announced by the judge. The crowd cheered for Bifur.

“Look at all them un-saddened to see Nrar go!” Bofur laughed to Kíli, who couldn’t help but crack a smile. “I bet anyone would have picked up that axe if they had the chance!” 

More good news followed as Balin, Dwalin, and Dolla’s exile from Erebor was lifted. 

Óin took pleasure in handing out gold to any dwarf who demanded compensation for not working, but they were few in number. Some thought the payment of saving their king was fair enough, while others became embarrassed in having to admit desiring money over their king’s safety. 

Kíli was most thankful for Dain orchestrating the entire event. As one of Nrar’s victims, Kíli himself could not play the role of judge. But even if he could he doubted he would have done the job as effectively. Admiration rose in his heart for his cousin, and he lamented that he could not have had more chances in having Dain visit Erebor. 

“Now, all that is left is what to do with the body of Nrar,” Dain said when all had been cleared. 

“I do not wish to have him buried in the same tombs as my ancestors,” Kíli said to the crowd. “Even if the Nrar who first inhabited that body was different than the spirit that inhabited it later in life, much evil was committed in this vessel. He has no place among my kin.” 

“And neither is he welcomed back to the Iron Hills!” one dwarf cried out. 

Glori stood up; she hadn’t left Nori’s side for a moment since his return home. “For all his crimes he must be burned!” she cried, followed by half the court voicing their agreement. 

Suddenly where was a great shout. “No!” 

Startled, Kíli turned to the source. It was only one word, but he recognized the voice instantly. How many times has he heard it before, cried out in exasperation or anger (for Kíli was indeed very reckless in his youth.) 

He stood up the same moment when Dís did, pulling back her hood to reveal her face to the crowd. Her eyes fixated on Dain. 

“I should begin by saying that you’ve done well as judge, king of the Iron Hills,” she said. 

“Though I am not as expert as yourself, cousin,” Dain said with a smile. Dís was one of the top judges of the Blue Mountains. Though she did train along with her brothers, her military training was overshadowed by the long years she spent in careful study of dwarven law. She stood in the middle of the chamber as Kíli had always seen her: standing erect and her shoulders straight, appearing larger than her actual size. Yet even as she stood in this manner, the sadness gleamed in her eyes even as she returned Dain’s smile. 

Kíli glanced at Dwalin in question, but he too was surprised to see her. 

“I would have gladly overseen this trial, but as my two sons were among Nrar’s victims I can only witness this. I do not think I would have the capability to remain calm after hearing all that I’ve heard of this tale.” 

Kíli glanced down, biting his lip to stop the tears. He didn’t want to hurt her like this, for her to know the exact detail. How it must have felt for his mother to hear of the crimes committed against two of her children and having to keep her brave face in all this time. 

“I agree with my son King Kíli that Nrar deserves no resting place next to my brother and son,” Dís said. “But neither does he deserve the same fate as my brother Frerin, who was a burned dwarf. With all due respect to Glori who too suffered seeing her child destroyed by his hands, I will not taint the meaning of a burned dwarf with this fiend.” 

“I understand your sorrow,” Dain said. “As one closest to Nrar’s primary victim, what would you suggest?” 

“I suggest he rots outside this mountain and have the crows and vultures pick at his remains,” Dís said without a pause. “Just as how he treated the lives of countless dwarves as insignificant and dispensable, so shall the birds treat his remains. I understand he was your friend but you have been unbiased in this trial thus far. I hope you’ll consider.” At that moment she turned to Kíli, her eyes shining bright with tears. Kíli could only hold their gaze for a moment, not wanting to break down before his entire kingdom. He had done well in remaining tearless during his testimony. 

Dain nodded his head at Dís’s suggestion and asked the crowd for their vote. The sentence passed.

***

Kíli remained to the side, far from the main halls where the dwarves left back for their homes. Upon seeing his mother, he stood up, but at first neither spoke. They simply stared at one another, each remembering the day when Kíli and Fíli parted for the Quest.

“I never wanted you to know all of this, _amam_ , ” Kíli said under his breath, looking away. “Not like this.” 

Silently Dís wrapped her arms around him, and Kíli buried his face in her shoulder. Both wept as they held one another.

***

“There is still the matter of the ring,” Kíli said. He sat with Dain at the private dinner chamber, joined by a handful of other dwarves. Dain remained with Kíli in the days since, helping with resolving any loose ends.

The biggest was the matter of the mountain wights. Since his final row with Nrar, Kíli despised having to look at them, but the mountain wights were clinging to him in silent waiting for his next command. 

“ _Slaves of Ar-Pharazôn, I command you to each return to the tombs you have been summoned!_ ” Kíli had called out to the mountain-wights before turning to Dain. “I believe they will need to be led. I do not want any of them to remain here.” 

And so a party was selected, Dwalin among them, to take the ghostly remains of the dwarven army back to their resting places. It would be about a year’s worth of travel, perhaps more, as Nrar had sought them from every corner of Arda, but to see the mountain-wights leave at last was comfort enough. 

“The ring,” Dain said, nodding his head. “Have you any thought about it?” 

“I am worried it will attract Sauron into the mountain,” Kíli said. “I will not risk the lives of the dwarves of Erebor, not after everything.” 

“And I’m afraid your army is currently lacking, as most were the mountain wights who’ve left,” Dain said, nodding his head. “The ring will need to be destroyed in fire. I volunteer to have it destroyed in the Iron Hills by my son Thorin. I will have Oglûk take the ring there.” Dain nodded to him, who sat across the table from them. 

“Oglûk,” Kíli said, nodding to the dwarf. “My sixth cousin. Had our laws not been so rigid, I would have chosen him as my regent.” 

“It would have delayed Nrar, though he would have found ways to follow with his plan,” Dain said, “but it would have saved you from all the anguish.” 

“Speaking of that marriage, I do have a question regarding the laws,” Kíli said, leaning forward and hoping Bofur (who was serving Dís seconds on her plate) wouldn’t notice. It was one of the issues he wanted to bring up to Dain. “Considering the ambiguity of Nrar’s true nature and the fact that neither of us had learned the other’s name during the wedding ceremony, does it mean I am not legally wed to him? And if I am, can I easily dissolve this marriage?” 

“It’s difficult as, like you said, we do not fully understand Nrar’s nature,” Dain said. “Though some may consider the consummation to be an act of sealing a marriage ritual, no matter how ineffective, I would hesitate to call it so as the act was done in force and thus unheard of among the dwarves. Your marriage to Nrar is perfectly dissolved, Kíli. Even a political marriage may end. You have that freedom.” 

“Is it possible for me to even have that block of stone in the marriage room taken out and destroyed?” Kíli asked. “In case I may want to marry another in the future?” 

“I believe arrangements can be made, yes,” Dain said, smiling. “I believe this covers everything we wanted to go through?” 

“Well…there is one final request,” Kíli said, glancing against at Bofur and Dís. “A big request, actually. But it’s best I tell you in private.”

***

The conditions of his travel proved well for Oglûk so far. He decided to journey to the Iron Hills alone was best, lest any of the dwarves became too allured by the ring of power. He had it wrapped and pocketed in his satchel, so that he himself would not be tempted.

The mountain where he had been born and raised in loomed overhead, and his heart leapt at its beautiful sight, unaware of the shadow that crept behind him. 

In an instance Oglûk was slain and his body thrown to the ground. 

The shadowy hand consumed the dwarven ring of power, the ring now back in the possession of Sauron, and by the time Oglûk was found the assassin had long disappeared out of sight.

***

Months passed before he got to see her. The winter had been long and bitter, but the coming of spring brought with it a sight he had not seen since forever. From the crowd he could easily pick her out. She walked just like Fíli; though short even for a dwarf, she strut as if she herself ruled all of Erebor; her golden hair was done in a similar manner as Fíli, and she held a smirk that Kíli knew all too well. It was like seeing him all over again, but this was not Fíli.

“Míli,” Kíli greeted his younger sister, who drove into his arms, squeezing the breath out of him. She spoke only his name and they remained as such for the longest time, ignoring the dwarves who stood around them and the dwarves still pouring in. 

Kíli looked about himself. Balin was holding Dolla’s hand as he led her back to the kingdom that he had long promised for her. Their eyes met and shared a smile, all glad to be near each other again. With a sand pang Kíli realized the entire Company was reunited once more in Erebor; even if two had passed away they were with the Company in spirit. 

He could also make out Fann, the beautiful Stonefoot dwarf who Fíli had wed and loved; and holding Fann’s hand was Finna the small child Fíli would never get to see grow up. Finna took on more of her mother’s features, the same jet black hair and dark eyes, but seeing her face - the shape, the nose, and mouth - reminded Kíli strongly of his earliest memories of Fíli. 

Finna studied the magnificence of the kingdom around her, taking in the vast green granite with wide curious eyes before another dwarf caught her eye who was holding hands with Minyu. Overjoyed at seeing little Kíli, who was just the same size as her, she broke out of her mother’s hold to chase the other dwarf, a friendship already forged. 

Fann and Kíli exchanged amused looks, though there was sadness in their gaze as well. 

“I cannot believe he’s really gone,” whispered Míli in Kíli’s arms. “I heard the news so long ago, and at times I would try to fool myself, that you both were here and with Uncle Thorin. But he’s really gone…” 

Kíli kissed the top of her head as she wept against his chest. “You’re stuck with me instead, little demon.” 

The slap against his arm was met with a feeble laugh. “Don’t joke!” She looked at him seriously, for perhaps the first time that Kíli remembered seeing his darling brat of a sister. “I am glad you survived, so glad!” She gave him another hug, causing Kíli to wince this time. “What happened in this kingdom? Why couldn’t we enter for so long?” 

“Ah.” Kíli could not fathom his sister knowing as much as his mother did, what her reaction would be. The sort of horrors he experienced in the past four years was the sort he wanted to shield away from her for as long as he could. 

“I will tell you another time, and only in small doses,” he said. “But a dwarf had brought many hurts into this kingdom. Battles took place here, but he’s gone now, that dwarf.” 

“You defeated him and got your kingdom back!” Míli grinned. 

“Yes, except…I’m no longer king.” Kíli smiled sadly at seeing Míli’s wide eyes. “I spoke with Dain long about this. I thought I should offer my throne to him. Erebor needs a stronger leader, and I was never fit to be king, not back then and not now.” 

“But you’re the direct heir!” 

“One of the direct heirs,” Kíli said. “And besides, I could not let my kingdom undergo more tragedy.” He lifted up his shirt to reveal the wound in his side. “It’s infected. I was given many medicines to combat it, and we think I will be fine, but there’s small chance I may lose this battle. If I do, I cannot put more strain on my kingdom. Already we’ve received news that one of Dain’s men were killed while trying to deliver a ring to the Iron Hills; we may see more of Sauron in the future, and should that day come I need to know this kingdom will be strong. Dain can lead us. But do not worry. My mother is head judge of the court, so we still have a hand in this kingdom’s fate. I will not be far from that throne, just away from the spotlight. 

“I’ve already had the old records show that I passed away in the battle along with my uncle and brother. I wish to slip into the background and live peacefully for now. But I still have power here; I’m just not the king.” 

He smiled. “I’m sorry you missed out on my wedding.” 

“Second wedding,” he added in his mind, but she didn’t have to know about that today. 

“Wedding? _You_ , getting married? To who?” 

Kíli nodded to Bofur, who stood between Bombur and Bifur. He waved to Míli. 

“The toymaker?” she said, her eyebrows raised. 

“One of the most influential dwarves of this kingdom,” Kíli said, grinning. 

“I’m related to those fools of my childhood now - no offense, Minyu.” They all laughed. Míli embraced Bofur, congratulating him, before moving to do the same with the others. They beckoned Fann to join them, who had just gathered Finna and little Kíli lest they caused more trouble. Kíli knew Fann had many questions about her husband’s death, and he would have to set a time to talk with her privately. 

“So Dain is king here, then what of the Iron Hills?” Míli asked. 

“Dain’s son Thorin Stonehelm now rules it. I hope I haven’t disappointed you.” 

Míli shook her head. “Just knowing I still have you is enough.” 

Kíli turned his gaze to Bofur, who nodded and gave him a kiss in encouragement. Kíli took Míli’s hand as the other dwarves settled behind them. 

“Ready to visit Thorin and Fíli’s tomb?” Kíli asked. The debris from the blast had since been cleared. “The rest will meet us there.” 

Míli nodded. “I’m ready,” she said, fighting back fresh tears. 

Kíli smiled, and the group of dwarves set off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends our tale. :) I hope you've enjoyed reading! I began this story last April and have finished it now. It was a joy to write, to explore more of dwarven culture and law, and superstition (which turned out not to be superstition at all.) 
> 
> Thank you all very very much for commenting and leaving kudos. Although I haven't replied to comments, I do read every single one of them and cherish them. :) 
> 
> My next dwarf story will be a rather massive project that will take some of the same elements and characters here. I may use another account to house all those tales in one place. :) It's a story I'm excited to next write after this. (Thankfully, no Nrar/Ar-Pharazôn to haunt poor Kíli.) 
> 
> Thank you all once more! :)


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